


Transcendental Orbit

by GhostPatches



Series: Orbit Verse [1]
Category: Adam (2009), Jagten | The Hunt (2012)
Genre: AU of an AU, Age Difference, Angst, But it will be cute, Grad student!Adam, How could there not, I just wanted to write something fun, I like to take liberties did I mention that, Loosely connected to the movies, M/M, Smut, There is awkwardness ahead, This is pretty much an AU, hannigram AU, there will be sexy times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostPatches/pseuds/GhostPatches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In search of a place to continue his education, Adam decides to accept an internship to an observatory located in Denmark. He's set to trace the constellations, but his path finds itself crossing with another. One that pulls his orbit out of place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Wasn't The Right Address

**Author's Note:**

> So, I felt compelled to write some Lucas/Adam fluff. I love this ship and I need to contribute since it won't leave me alone. I haven't written fanfic in years, so bear with me as I try to get in the groove. @_@ 
> 
> (Also, I don't know much about technical astronomy, so please suspend some disbelief 8D)

Nothing looked familiar. The road didn’t resemble the one he’d walked down. This didn’t seem to be the sidewalk he’d glanced down at every six steps or so. The signs weren’t familiar, they weren’t even in English. It’d only been a few blocks, or so he thought. But no matter how (it didn’t), he was here, in this place, whatever it was. 

The market was supposed to be close by. They’d never walked far from where the bus stopped. They always went there, it was accessible and the closest one. This was the closest town and it had its one market. It wasn’t a big town. Making the journey on his own should have been as smooth as summer mornings. 

His hand fidgeted on the umbrella, tilting it further over his head. The drizzle was turning into a solid layer of rain now. He was supposed to be back at the designated meeting spot. They were all supposed to be headed back to the observatory. That was not the case, though.

The case, in point, was that Adam was lost. 

Lost in a small Denmark town (village, maybe a better term). His had phone conveniently decided to lose all means of network. He’d shuffled both up and down the sidewalk, trying to find service. So far no luck. At first, there wasn’t any extreme nervousness. It wasn’t that a big a place, it couldn’t be hard to find the way back. 

But an hour later, he could feel the twinge in his hands and the jerk at his elbow. If he stayed in one place, maybe someone would find him, maybe something would suddenly seem as if he’d seen it before. Yet, here he was. On a side walk near the edge of town, in the rain, staring towards the shops, and trying to slowly fill his lungs and then release. Repeat.

To his left, the sound of a firm stride, steady in the footfalls. A few people had passed by him, no one had said anything. If that was a blessing or a curse, he could not decide. The man, who happened to be a bit taller than him, walked by. Adam didn’t glance after him, instead he closed his eyes, and tried to retrace his steps. He had gone to the right from the bus stop, then taken a street to the west, then straight ahead.

The footsteps paused, then began to get closer once more. Adam opened his eyes to a concerned and mildly cautious gaze.

The man carried his own umbrella, a small package under his arm, and there were slim glasses perched on his nose. Adam blinked a few times, shifted his gaze away, then back. The man spoke, probably asked something, but Adam was new to Danish. He had been trying to learn in the last week or two. He could discern it was a question, but not its entire meaning. He swallowed, hearing all the new words he’d learned begin to tangle in his mind. 

“Lost,” he said, “I’m lost.”

The man watched him, his face not changing expression. No eyebrow twitch, no lips pressing together. He might not know English at all. A tightness began in Adam’s ribcage. 

“Lost,” the man repeated, his voice heavy with accent. 

Adam nodded, hand moving to smooth his jacket down. His fingers brushed against the ID card he had on. The man’s gaze was drawn to it and Adam looked down. It had the observatory’s name on it. 

“I attend the program there,” he said. “We were supposed to meet near the post office.” 

The man’s expression brightened a little and he said a name that sounded familiar to Adam. That was the street. He nodded again, fingers tightening on the umbrella. The man spoke again, but it was too fast and he didn’t recognize any of the words. He seemed to realize this and made a pointing motion off to their right. Adam looked to the direction he was pointing, but he didn’t move. 

They stood there in silence as the rain pattered on. This man was probably pointing him in the direction of the street he needed to be on. Adam sucked in one side of his cheek, then made a few steps in the direction, and paused. Did he go down the walk-way and to the left or did he go down the walk-way, to the left, and then the right? His free hand clenched then unclenched. 

The man stepped after him and lightly touched his elbow. He said something else in Danish and Adam thought he heard the word help. The man motioned once more to the direction ahead of him, only this time he tapped Adam’s elbow again and began to walk with him. 

The stranger didn’t say much after that and Adam trailed just a step or two behind him. The silence sat upon his shoulders, leaning heavily against his ears. But it wasn’t the kind he sought out when people were too bright. This was different. This was the kind where people just stared at each other and waited.

“The weather said it would rain all night,” he said. “Clouds make it difficult to see and not much work gets done at the observatory. Right now, Saturn is clear to our view and we’ve been working with new equipment to study its moons. It takes Saturn ten-thousand seven-hundred and fifty-nine days to orbit the sun. Saturn has one-hundred and fifty moons, the ones we know about, anyways. The largest one is Titan and the second largest is Rhea. There’s speculation that Rhea may have its own ring system-” Enough. It was enough when he had to stop to take a breath. That’s what Carol had said. 

He ventured a glance at the stranger. He could barely see one side of his face from where he was. The man didn’t give any indication that he’d understood what Adam had said. Adam licked his lips, pursed them together, and then relaxed them. They had gone down the walk-way, across the street, and back into the main part of the town. 

They were crossing one another street and Adam missed the curb, collapsing forward. The stranger paused mid-stride and Adam found himself face first into his shoulder, almost losing his umbrella and his fingers clutching onto the man’s arm. He righted himself, using his grip on the man’s arm.

Apologizing would be the right thing to do. But Adam couldn’t find the words, stuttering a few times before giving up altogether. The man’s eyebrows raised just a little and he muttered something Adam couldn’t place. He was moving again and Adam trailed after him. They passed through a small alley between buildings and everything was how Adam remembered. He’d been here. He could see a street sign with the right corner dent, a brick missing from the sidewalk to the right, and further down the street the pull off where the bus let them off. 

His colleagues were there and appeared to be waiting. The man motioned towards them and said something. Adam recognized the word ‘friends’. 

“Yes,” he said, “I work with them. They’re waiting on me.” He let go of the man’s arm. Somehow he hadn’t realized he’d still be holding onto the edge of his jacket. 

Two steps away, Adam stopped. He turned around just as the stranger was beginning to leave. “My name is Adam. Hello,” he said, 

The man’s lips stretched into a grin. “Hello, Adam. My name is Lucas,” he returned, his words less confidant. Lucas turned, walking the back the way they had come.

Adam watched him go for a moment or two, then started crossing the street over to his colleagues. Carol spotted him first.

“Adam, where have you been?” She met him half-way, falling in step besides him. “When you didn’t show up, we got worried. A few of us went looking for you.”

“I got lost. Nothing looked like I remembered,” he said, “I couldn’t find the right street and then everything just kept going. I just couldn’t find the way.”

“You should have called one of us.”

“I tried but the phone wouldn’t work. I got lost,” his fingers tightened on the umbrella, “I didn’t recognize anything. All the streets were different. I couldn’t read the si-”

“You’re here now,” Carol said. “That’s what really matters.” She glanced over him, trying to read his expression. Adam had glanced away, shifting his leg and shoulders. She patted his elbow. “Come on. We should go back now.”

Lucas was nowhere to be seen, he checked, so he followed her back to the pull off where everyone was grouped together. He just nodded stiffly when people asked if he was okay. He waited behind a few of his colleagues as they shook their umbrellas out before getting on the bus. 

Adam settled in next to Carol, who had the window seat. It made her feel less bus sick, she’d said. She turned to him once the bus had started, motioning with two fingers to the brown paper bag near her feet. “I picked up a few things you like,” she said, “which was good, since you got lost.”

He nodded once more, pressing the palms of his hands into his thighs. “Next time, next time I won’t get lost. I’ll know the way. It’s not that far, I can d-”

“Adam, it’s not a big deal, really. We just got worried,” she told him. “You haven’t been here long. I should have gone with you.”

“I can do these things.”

“Of course you can. It’s just a new place, that’s all. I got lost a few times too.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

He looked past her, out the window where green foliage blurred by. That man, Lucas, had stopped to help him. He wondered if he lived there in the village. He’d understood Adam when he’d introduced himself. 

“Do you speak Danish well?” he asked. 

Carol cracked a few fingers. “Sort of. Well enough to get by. I try to study in my down time when we’re not doing research.” 

He tapped his foot against the floor of the bus. She studied him for a moment or two. “Hey, I can give you a practice partner if you want to learn. There’s a bunch of materials and exercises I’m not using.” She offered a grin. “It might help with the getting lost too.”

“That was only once and-”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was teasing.”

He gave a stiff nod and glanced out the window. 

 

 

The observatory had a nice set of dorms near it. They resembled apartments more than dorms. The building was a grayish-blue that melded into the fog on early mornings. They were stacked six high with large windows for the main rooms. Everyone ended up with a roommate and Adam’s happened to be a man near his age who hailed from a Washington University. 

“Hello, Adam,” he greeted when the door opened. “Bus was late in getting back. Something happen?” He turned his head to look at his roommate from where he sat on the couch. “Was there a deer in the road?”

Adam hung his jacket up and then put his bag on the table. Eli raised an eyebrow. “Did you not end up getting groceries?”

“No, I did not,” Adam said, heading for his room. Eli set his book down, open face, on the couch. 

He paused by the doorway to Adam’s room and watched his roommate shuffle around, putting things back in place by an inch or less. Adam finally turned, gaze downward, but his body facing Eli.

“Was there something you needed?” he asked. 

Eli shrugged, “Not really. But you seem agitated. What happened, Adam?”

“It was nothing. Nothing happened. Happened means that an event passed and it did not. There wasn’t anything that happened,” he said. 

Eli raised his hands up. “Alright, alright. But you didn’t bring groceries back with you. I guess I was worried about what you’d eat.”

“There is still food in the refrigerator.”

“Sure, but not enough for another week.”

They finally met gazes, and Eli blinked, tilting his head upwards. “If you need to get something, then we can go in the next day or two. Just us. I probably need to pick up a few things anyways.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the couch, snatching his book up. He settled down, finding the sentence about gravitational orbit he’d left off at. 

He was onto the paragraph about interferences when the room was occupied by a second person. Eli paused, tilting his head to the side.

“In the town, I wasn’t able to find the market by myself,” Adam said. 

“It’s just because you can’t read the signs yet,” Eli said. “We can practice letters this week.” 

“Okay.” 

“And we can go back to the village tomorrow, if we’re up for it.”

There was a moment of silence and then the shuffle of feet. Eli turned back to his book, settling back. 

He’d dig up his language books tomorrow.


	2. There's a Bridge Between Us That I Can Build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go back and see what we did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait! All the plans I had for this sort of... didn't work? So I'm kind of trying to re-figure everything and I got stuck. I apologize. ): I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The weather hadn’t lied. The morning brought foggy windows, slumped grass, and a heavy atmosphere. The clouds were still hanging around, casting muted light everywhere. Eli was at the dorm window, coffee cup in hand, steam twisting out of the top, and staring past the compact water drops on the window. There was a chance no one would get much work done today. Well, outside of work that could be done on the computers. Graphs that needed attention, theoretical equations that required more thought, and so on. But that wasn’t going to fill the sixteen hours everyone was awake. 

Adam was sitting at the table a few feet behind him, staring intently at his computer screen. He was muttering to himself about orbit patterns and Eli turned. “We have all day to look at figures, Adam. We can do that later.”

Adam paused, glancing at Eli from the side without moving his head. “I can also do it now.”

“Sure, but later won’t make much a difference.”

“I’ve already started.”

“Leaving something half undone until tonight won’t make the stars misalign.” 

Adam held his gaze for only a few seconds, then turned away. He cracked his neck and opened his mouth.

“No, no excuses. Let’s go out,” Eli said. “It’s cloudy, the figures won’t be hard, and damn it, I have been in this stupid dorm for too many days. Let’s go.”

He huffed and shoved his free hand in his pocket, tilting the coffee cup slightly in the other. He was now the one looking away and Adam studied him from where he sat. “Did you…”

“I just threw a fit, yes,” he said. 

A smile spread over Adam’s face and Eli returned it after a few seconds. Adam glanced at the computer, fingers curling back away from it, and his hands sliding back. He shut the laptop, letting out a long, drawn breath. 

“I think jackets might be necessary. I will need to get mine,” he said as he pushed his chair in. 

“Unless you like colds and frostbite.” Eli followed him to the door, but raised his hands in surrender when Adam turned to give him a hard look, all furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “It was a joke. I don’t think a lot of people like either of those. I’m sure some do though.”

“Why would anyone like having a cold or a limb with frostbite?” Adam’s voice had taken that accusatory tone which signaled he was confused by something.

“I’m not even going to try and explain that one.” Eli locked the door once they were wrapped in their coats and on the other side. 

The air outside held a sting to it. Eli pulled his scarf up immediately and Adam followed suit. He watched as his breath lifted into the air, in spite of the scarf, and there was something comforting about the crunch of Eli’s boots along the gravel that lead away from the dorms. 

The institute supplied cars for trips into town or for further field research. They were comfortable, small cars. Two door sedans that struggled going up any extreme hills. Plenty of astronomers had complaints about them, how they were cheap and it wasn’t any fun getting stranded in the field. Adam hadn’t encountered any of that yet as he hadn’t done any field work outside of that around the institute. Eli had been here for a month more than himself and he had just shrugged when Adam relayed what their cohorts had said.  
“If getting stuck somewhere in nature is the worst thing that can happen to me, then it’s not really a problem,” he had said. Adam could think of plenty of things that were worse and plausible, but he’d kept them to himself. There was no use in worrying Eli with more things.

Eli drove them through the wilderness roads in silence. They left the radio off and the hum of the car filled the space between them. Adam sat with his hands perched upon his thighs, staring out the passenger window. He’d accepted this internship to give him a change of scenery that was beyond state-side. The move to California was one step and this was the next. The internship at this observatory would look good on a resume for grad schools. 

“Did you bring the list I put on the fridge?”

Adam’s head jerked in Eli’s direction. “No. I did not.” His shoulders pushed back, tightening up. 

“No worries. I remember everything I need to get,” Eli said, turning them onto a more maintained road. “And I remember what you needed also.”

“I can remember,” he insisted. 

“I’m not saying you don’t remember.” The road connected with a paved street that took them into town. “I’m just letting you know.”

Adam frowned then. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Alright, maybe it doesn’t make perfect sense.” Eli slowed down and pulled the car alongside street parking. “Sometimes I do things that don’t make sense.” He glanced over at Adam who had turned his attention to outside the car again. “Clearly you’re done with this conversation.”

Adam was already opening the car door and Eli quickly unbuckled his seatbelt to follow suit. He shivered as the brisk air met him head on. “Let’s g-“

“The market,” Adam said. He was standing on the same side of the car as Eli, waiting, though with much leg twitching.

“Market, right.” Eli locked the car. “So, do you want me to lead the way or would you like to show me?” He couldn’t keep the muted smile off his face.

Adam didn’t think it was quite as funny. His brows furrowed and the corner of his mouth pulled up in the way it did when something wasn’t making sense. He wanted to find fault with it but some part of him knew he shouldn’t. “Are you-“

“I am not making fun of you,” Eli said, gazing directly at him. “I mean, yes, I’m teasing you, but I don’t mean it in harm. I’m sorry.”

He only held his eyes for a second, the count of one blink, and he was looking ahead of them. They walked across the street, passing a few people on the way. The town was  
always relatively quiet. The population was small, but it tended to be friendly. They were even patient with the interns who stumbled their way through basic questions in Danish. Eli could recall a few occasions where his question was met by silence and raised eyebrows. Then his own question was repeated back to him, different, correct, but with no hint of mocking. 

The doors to the market slid open and Adam followed Eli inside, gaze flickering between all the new sights. There were only a few other customers, milling around, picking things off selves and examining it. Eli handed Adam a basket. “Alright, get what you want,” he said. “I’m going to grab my stuff.”

Adam watched his roommate stride off in the opposite direction of him. His fingers fiddled with the handle of the basket as he began meandering. He needed to get some groceries. Maybe shaving cream. The can had felt pretty light yesterday. 

Adam wandered up and down the aisles, picking things up, squinting at the labels. Some had English on them, but most did not. This just further cemented that he needed to take studying Danish much more seriously. He spotted Eli a few aisles away, holding a box and studying the back with great interest. 

It appeared as if he wasn’t close to being done yet, so Adam headed in the direction of the cashier. He placed the items in grouped lines, not bothering to check the expression of the cashier. He’d seen it before, plenty of times. He could, with great ease, recite the exact expression. During the exchange, his gaze only jerked up once or twice, mostly staying focused on his hands. 

By the time everything was bagged up and he had paid, there was still no sign of Eli. The air in the market was beginning to stick to his skin, and his tongue felt a little dry. Adam glanced around once more then walked to the door, letting out a soft breath. It felt as if a cloth had been drawn away from his face. He set his bags on the ground and waited, fingers rubbing together, cracking joints that felt tight.

The quiet settled within his chest, a soft thing. Every minute or so a car would pass by and sometimes a passerby but it was late afternoon, the time right before school would be out. Soon the streets would be busier, but until then, he could close his eyes and listen to the gentle sounds. 

A motion to his right caught his attention. Before he could stop himself, he turned his head. His eyes widened as he recognized the person walking in his direction. It was the same stride, the same firm sound of feet against ground that he’d heard just the day or so before. 

The man, Lucas, wasn’t looking in his direction at first. He was gazing out at the street, expression smooth and blank. Adam wasn’t obvious. He was standing just outside the market door and to the side, back to the front wall. As Lucas came closer, he turned his gaze from street to the space just ahead of him, where Adam was. Adam immediately glanced down, torn between wanting to be recognized and wanting nothing more than to be a stranger this man had never seen. 

As he neared, the second desire appeared to be winning. Lucas hadn’t made any indication he recognized Adam. There was no smile, no eyebrows raising, no straightening of the back. In fact, from his peripheral glances, Adam noticed that Lucas had only given him a once over and nothing more. It occurred to Adam that maybe he had offended the man somehow. Because of his panic, his confusion, he might have missed a tell-tale sign that he’d behaved inappropriately. He couldn’t exactly remember all the details of what occurred that day. It was over-exposed film inside his head.

Lucas was now moving to pass him and a strange thing, something cold and sharp, tightened itself inside of Adam. He acted, opening his mouth without reason. “Hello, Lucas,” his voice was low, almost whispered. 

The rhythmic stride faltered just a bit and stopped altogether. The strange feeling that had possessed Adam was gone, washed away, and now there was an oily film of anxiety, or embarrassment inside of him. He fixated his gaze on his hands and the ground, noticing the scuff marks on Lucas’ shoes. 

Lucas was leaning over and down now. Adam could see his face and there was a smile, a small one, on his lips. It widened just a bit once he’d caught Adam’s gaze. “Hello, Adam.” 

Hearing his name, Adam jerked his shoulders back, pulling his body and head up. Lucas straightened also, searching Adam’s face from behind glasses. He wasn’t sure what to do. His tongue was at a loss of words to form for this stranger. 

“How are you?” Lucas’ accent made the words sound connected. He almost didn’t catch that it was English. 

Adam sniffed, blinking sharply a few times. “I’m, uh, fine. I’m good.” The silence fell between them again and Adam realized he should have asked how Lucas was back. That’s what you were supposed to do.

“Not lost, I hope,” Lucas said, taking the responsibility away from Adam. 

He almost bristled. “No. Not this time.” He shook his head, gaze sliding away from Lucas, who’d been watching his face this entire time. “My roommate drove us here to get groceries. But he’s still getting stuff.”

Lucas didn’t reply right away and Adam began to worry how much English Lucas knew. The other man finally turned his gaze away from Adam, out to the street. “The clouds were here all day. Did you not get to work?”

Adam followed his gaze then returned it back to Lucas. He’d remembered what Adam had babbled about their first meeting. “No, I didn’t.”

“Too bad,” Lucas murmured, checking his watch. “Have a good evening, Adam.” He offered another small smile and Adam’s jaw clenched.

Lucas turned and picked up his walk once more. “You too, Lucas,” Adam said quickly, fingers twitching. The man didn’t glance back as he walked away. When Lucas was far from view, Eli stepped out from the market.

“There you are. I couldn’t find you,” he said, hands filled with bags.

Adam turned to him. “I was waiting for you.”

“I can see that.” Eli nodded to the bags at Adam’s feet. “Sorry for taking so long. Grab your stuff and let’s head back. We can cook supper tonight.”

He picked up the bags and followed after Eli. “We need to work on the figures.”

“Ah, well, that too,” Eli grumbled. 

Adam scanned the area, attempting to catch one more look at the green jacket clad back. But there was no sign of Lucas and for some reason, something heavy sat in his stomach. 

“Being responsible,” Eli said, a lilt to his voice. “You’re much more responsible than me.”

Adam scrunched up his features in response, not quite understanding how it applied. “But you-”

“I know.” Eli unlocked the car and they put their bags in the back seat. “I know. I’m not funny and I don’t always make sense.”

“I didn’t say that.” Adam climbed in the passenger seat.

Eli chuckled and started the car up, pulling out of the parking spot. Adam was silent again, once more his attention on the window, hands placed upon his thighs. There were more people on the sidewalks now, parents walking with children. Adam hadn’t seen any of the schools yet, but he knew they were there.

“Eli.”

“Hm?” Eli glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“In Danish, how do you say ‘how are you’?”

“I think it should be ‘hvordan har du det’,” he said. “Why? Did you try and talk to someone?”

“Not really.” Adam leaned back in his seat. “I was just curious.”

“I see.” 

Eli decided not to press the issue.


	3. Let Me Trace the Stars On Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took so long to get another chapter out. I participated in the NaNoWriMo and that took up all the writing energy I had. I will see this story through, I promise. 
> 
> I changed some very minor things in the previous chapter. I originally wanted Adam to be a grad student, but decided against it for some reason. But I think I'm going to go with that because it fits the story best. I hope you all still like it. >:
> 
> (thank you for such nice comments. I didn't even know what to do with them)

After that trip into town, Adam became determined to study Danish. At first, Eli found himself amused by it. When Adam became determined, it was the same as watching salmon chuck themselves up river. A blind, stubborn determination.

But that was the key factor, stubborn. Adam determined was a flip-switch. It could mean that he conquered something within a few days or it could mean that he made himself  
obsessive and drove everyone around him insane. At the moment, he was walking that fine-line between the two. Eli had almost begged him last night at dinner to just speak English for at least an hour or two. 

Carol ended up his other victim, outside of Eli. Her level of patience outweighed Eli’s by a mile. She’s sat through multiple lunches and breaks, calmly repeating basic phrases and basic conversations. Eli hadn’t even spotted an eye twitch nor a muted sigh. 

Dinner on the sixth day found all three of them leaning over the table in Eli and Adam’s room. Carol had just finished telling both of them about her small night time expedition to try some of the new mobile telescope lenses. Regretfully, one had met its demise when her colleague, startled by something in the bushes, had lunged backwards and knocked both her and the telescope over. 

“I doubt that’s going to go over well,” Eli said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s no small amount of money.”

“Saving grace is that it was a prototype,” she said. “It’s better to break the test lens than the actual finished product.”

“Well, I can’t deny that.”

Both their gazes fell onto Adam who was studying primer II for Danish. They exchanged glances, Carol raising both her eyebrows and Eli answering with a shrug. Carol leaned forward in her chair, her seat across from Adam. “So why are you suddenly determined to know all the ins-and-outs of Danish, Adam?”

A glance wasn’t even spared for her, his finger moving firmly across a sentence. “It’s a good thing to know.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” she said. “But you just weren’t this determined before.”

“What she wants to say,” Eli cut in, “is that when you get like this, it’s usually because something happened.” Carol frowned at Eli. He tilted his head forward and offered a knowing look. She sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Something usually triggers this.” She leaned back in her chair. 

Adam raised his gaze then. “You two make it sound like I’m doing something bad.”

Eli opened his mouth to comment, but Carol kicked him under the table. “No, no. I don’t want it to seem like that. I’m just curious if something happened. That’s all, Adam.” 

Leg still smarting, Eli nodded. “She’s right. We’re curious.”

Adam looked between them, lips pursing as he tried to gauge their sincerity. It was usually a matter of trust between them, that they would always be sincere. The sincerity was there, in the way that Carol leaned forward and how Eli folded his hands together, but there was a pull-back within him, high on a shelf. 

“It seemed interesting,” Adam said, both friends avoiding in-sync sighs. “I would like to not get lost again.”

“Alright,” Carol said, picking up her fork. “Just don’t burn yourself out on it.”

Eli shrugged it off, pushing the broccoli on his plate around. “I have got to learn to not procrastinate on projects. You think I’d have gotten this down as an under grad.”

“Who really learns anything in the way of good behavior as an under grad?” Carol asked, putting a potato in her mouth. 

“A lot of people,” Eli said, “just not us.”

Adam had tuned out and was focused back on the Primer, silently mouthing the words, trying to taste the sounds. It was like connecting lines between stars, different and invoking. The other two didn’t disrupt him again, letting their conversation go from bad study habits to the inner workings of the telescope lenses. Sometime after the plates were empty of food, they were comparing the lenses of glasses to that of the telescopes. 

The sudden closing of the Primer caught their attention. Adam stood up, taking his plate to the small kitchen, and rinsed it, scrubbing everything off of it. He set in the dishwasher, on the plate side, in the medium size row. On his way to his room, he picked the Primer up off the table. 

“Good night,” he said, then left without another word.

Carol raised an eyebrow, but Eli only shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

Being in the same department meant that Eli, Carol, and Adam had classes that overlapped. The advisor they’d been assigned to also was an overlap (part of the reason they had become companions). Osvald Brandt, their shared advisor, summoned them to his office. An office that was mainly a small room, piled high with papers, charts, and motivational quotes about the night sky on the wall (in Danish). There were only two chairs. Eli stood and let Adam and Carol sit. Osvald was putting away what appeared to be a paper written by a grad student. 

He was all thick gray hair and continuous two day old scruff on his chin. His body was healthy, but bore years of wear and for reading, he needed glasses. He looked between the three students in front of him. Carol’s quiet posture, Eli’s casual posture, and Adam’s posed posture. He set his reading glasses on the desk in front of him.

“I want you three to do something,” he said. Not a peep sounded from them. “I would like you to go out tonight, late tonight, and try out some of the new program navigation. It’s the one that would be sent to schools for field trips.” He folded his arms. “Can you do that for me?”

“If that’s what you’d like us to do, then yes,” Eli answered. “I’m good for that.”

“Yup,” Carol said, pulling her lips back to flash white teeth.

Adam only nodded, a jerky motion, which faded off into stillness, except for the tapping foot.

“Good. I would have you test the newest prototype lens tonight again, but it appears to have gotten broken,” Osvald said, his gaze not lingering on Carol.

“Not my fault.” She raised her hands. “Not my fault.”

One thick, peppered eyebrow arched. “I never implied fault, just a fact.”

Eli shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “So all you’re asking us is to bundle ourselves up, go sit in the middle of a freezing field at night, and try out the program?”

“It’s good to see that your hearing is intact,” Osvald said, “and then some.”

Eli offered a grin to the advisor, then took two steps backwards, angling his head to look down at this companions. Carol pulled herself from her own seat and Adam snapped out of his, finding no pathway to appearing natural in this environment. 

“Make you sure you sign everything out,” Osvald told them. “You’re dismissed.”

They filed out of the office, weaving between furniture and students waiting, papers clutched in hands and graphs quietly being recited. Once the advisor offices were safely behind them, Eli turned, taking long strikes backwards, and looked at his companions.

“This is a very good thing,” he said, “It means that Osvald trusts us.”

“You’re going to run into something,” Carol said, glancing ahead of Eli. 

“I’d like to think you’d warn me if that was the case,” he said.

“I might not out of spite.” She crossed her arms. “But anyways, I would like to add that I agree this is a very good thing.” Her attention turned to Adam. “You’re excited, right?”

Adam’s gaze shifted to them. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic,” Eli said.

“I will be enthusiastic when the testing goes we-” The sentence broke off as Adam’s expression widened into one of surprise. That was all the warning Eli had before he fell backwards, having tripped over the outstretched legs of a student. Their focus was on the book in their hands and the headphones in their ears. Eli gave them an apologetic look and a small ‘sorry’. They pulled their legs in and looked down at their book once again.

Carol began to laugh, pausing to allow Eli to get up. Adam moved to offer Eli a hand, which was gratefully accepted. Once he was back on his feet, he glared at Carol. “The fact that the only warning came from Adam’s face is not cool, man,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction.

“I warned you,” she said as her lips smoothed into a smirk. “Adam is just nicer than I am.”

Adam looked between the two of them, face beginning to crease. Eli lightly clapped a hand on his shoulder, earning only a small flinch. “Don’t worry. It makes very little sense,” he said. 

They fell into step once more, but Adam’s creased brow was still there. Eli pushed his shoulder against Adam’s and took two steps to put himself ahead of them. “Don’t worry about it. We have bigger things to worry about than social nuances.”

“There’s no social nuance in it,” Carol said. “I’m just being a jerk. A satisfying thing, to be honest.”

“I’m never trusting you again,” Eli said.

“You didn’t in the first place,” she said, “that’s why this friendship works.”

Adam wasn’t paying them anymore heed and was quietly repeating some of the Danish phrases he had gone over earlier in the morning. Eli and Carol exchanged glances, one of a curious nature and the other ending with a shrug. Prying was out of the question.

And that left the only option being that when the story felt like being told, it would be.

 

Eli and Adam’s final class ended around six in the evening. There was a chance it would end early when their professor wore the haggard signs of a hangover. But there was also the chance it would run over the allotted time, no class in the room after to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The run-over was commonly seen after a hangover, more than likely due to some need to repent on the previous behavior. 

This period found the class ending at the right time. Eli was determined to eat dinner before they left and Adam hadn’t disagreed. He stood near his laptop, which was shut and placed on the table, fidgeting and forcing himself to turn away from it. Before Eli had disappeared into the kitchen to make a quick dinner for them both, he’d warned him, saying that if he let himself get engrossed on it with either his own research figures or language exercises, he’d end up moody with having to leave in the middle of it. Adam couldn’t deny it. This was knowledge from experience. And while Eli tended to be very mellow, there were some moods and the causes of that he would not deal with. 

“We’re going to meet with Carol around nine,” Eli said, straining the broccoli over the sink. “Probably at the lab.”

“Okay,” Adam said, moving to stand near the kitchen doorway. 

Eli rested the pot against the sink, studying his roommate. Adam managed to achieve a dichotomy of looking completely out of place and comfortable. Adam tended to hide in their apartment when he needed safety, but many a time, he held himself in a manner that suggested, with tense shoulders and arms held against his sides, he’d never been in this place previously. 

“If you’re going to pace,” Eli said, “then after dinner, maybe you can choose a single set of research or language to work on.”  
Adam nodded stiffly in response, “I know.”

Over dinner, they discussed the range of lenses and how efficient they were. Their conversation turned from telescope lenses to the topic they’d be looking at in a matter of hours. Night constellation navigation. Eli wondered exactly what it was going to look like. Adam said it didn’t matter what they wondered, they’d know at nine o’clock. Eli pointed his fork at him and told him he was no fun and that he needed an imagination. 

Which he regretted once they were washing dishes and Adam was dead silent. He had perfected the art of the cold shoulder, maybe even taken it one step further. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Eli told him as he dried a plate with the dishtowel. “I was kidding. I didn’t actually mean it.”

This was met with the same stoic silence as Adam continued to soap the second plate they’d used. There was no pause in his rhythm, no hesitation. Nothing that indicted his  
mind was accepting what Eli was telling him. Eli almost preferred the sudden outbursts.

“It was a sarcastic expression, you know I wou-” Eli almost dropped the plate that he was holding. Adam was setting the plate he’d been washing, now clean, in the holder. His lips held a small, quirked smile.

“You were joking,” Eli said. “You were screwing with me. I can’t believe. You ass.”

Adam picked up their utensils and put them in the soapy water. “I can do social nuances,” he said and Eli almost swore he was preening. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” Eli finished drying the plate and picked up the one Adam had just finished. “But man, that almost gave me a heart attack. I think Carol would have died.”

Adam only continued to grin. 

In the end, neither of them did any research and Adam didn’t pick up the language exercises. They huddled around Eli’s laptop, which they sat up at the table, and watched the most recent documentary about astronomy. Carol liked to joke that when they sat down to watch anything educational, it was hard to tell the two men apart. 

At nine o’clock, they found Carol waiting in front of the doors to the lab building. She was bundled head to foot, with a scarf wrapped around her neck, obscuring the view of her lower face. 

“Couldn’t fit anything else on?” Eli said as they stopped in front of her. 

“Is it that cold?” Adam asked.

“For me it is,” she said, “I don’t want chills of any kind.”

“And you came to Denmark. I might have to question your logic.” Eli avoided a gloved swipe at him. The out-take process took about five minutes and five minutes later they  
were in the car with two tablets in hand. Eli had taken it upon himself to drive. Adam had secured shot-gun, as Carol had informed him, and she was in the back in the middle. She was already investigating the tablet and all the options on it. 

“Don’t waste the battery,” Eli warned her. The only response he received was a snort. 

 

Once the car was parked and they were standing out in the field, Eli turned the second tablet on. The sky was clear, no clouds obscuring the view. The three of them took a moment to just stand there, in the open, cheeks heated from trying to avoid the chill in the air, and stared up at the sky. The sky was freckled with stars, all sizes, shapes, brightness, and color. It was fairy dust spread out on a dark background, faintly flickering. 

When the moment had passed, they tested the tablets. The directional coordinates seemed to be working, recognizing north, east, south, and west. The season was correct. The constellations had so far been correctly recognized, though Carol mentioned that the title “Fucking Aries” might want to be rewritten. That and “Who drew Cetus”. 

The information popped up like it was supposed to and they had shared a strange glee, reading early educational information about the constellations and the night sky. Once they felt satisfied that everything seemed to be working, and they had made mental notes of things to mention, they laid back in the field, turning their attention skyward. 

No one ventured to start a conversation, all their minds wandering different paths. Adam’s mind turned backwards, reviewing his day, picking apart conversations he’d had. He stopped on one. 

“There’s a person in the village,” Adam said. 

“What?” Carol propped herself up on her elbows. “What are you talking about?”

Eli only took a moment to connect the dots. “It’s not a student then,” he said, not breaking his gaze away from the sky.

“No. It’s a person who lives in the village,” Adam said. “They speak English.” He frowned. “Or some. They could understand me.”

“And you want to have a longer conversation with this person?” Eli asked. Carol was silent, still propped up and watching them.

“I want to try.” Adam folded his hands over his stomach, trying to feel where they should rest. 

“I love you, Adam,” Carol said, “but most of the time, you avoid people. You approach them in the same manner someone would a strange object. So, what’s up with this  
person?”

Adam’s fingers shifted in their interlocked position. The words, the answer, were just strange shapes in his head. He couldn’t make out the outlines, they didn’t feel right. There was no path to trace his hands along. 

Carol flopped back down. “Well, then tomorrow at lunch, if we all manage to have lunch together, we’ll practice our Danish.”

“I’m not going to lunch then,” Eli said, moving his hands to rest under his head

“Fun sucker.”

“Homework isn’t fun,” he said.

“This isn’t homework, this is integrating into a culture,” Carol said. 

Adam turned his head to look at them, barely able to distinguish their forms in the dark. “I just want to talk in Danish.”

“Alright, alright,” Eli said, “project Let’s-Learn-Danish is accepted. I got it.”

Comfortable silence crawled its way into their presence once more, and their minds wandered away again. Adam was quietly tracing lines between the stars above them, counting the constellations, repeating their names to remember how they felt, but soon his mind was occupied by a pair of glasses that belonged to someone with a green jacket.


	4. I Can Settle The Words In Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it took awhile to get out, but here you go. I hope you enjoy this chapter. This was written to a combo of indie Christmas music and Megaman remixes. Thank you for all your wonderful comments. I am very surprised and pleased by all your interest in this story. <3

Chapter 4

“What Eli lacks,” Carol explained, waving her pencil, the mint colored one suffering from deep gnaw marks, “is patience, or an ability to have continuous patience. He does possess explosions of patience, but that’s what they are, sudden. There’s no endurance in it.”

Adam was sitting across from her in the study room, three books spread out in front of him, the pages split between text and diagrams. His posture was straight, back tense and hands placed on his legs. The white board was filled with information both on constellations, how to pin-point sky locations, and the effect of lenses on how an image was perceived. 

The study room door was still open, letting in the noise of passing students. Only moments ago, Eli had stormed out, having slammed a book shut and stomped his way to the door, running face first into the wood when the handle hadn’t turned all the way. His final act was to throws his hands up, adding a hiss for good measure, then exit the room. 

The muscle that extended from the underside of Adam’s jaw down his neck twitched sharply, fingers pressing into the fabric of his pants. Carol hadn’t even blinked, jaw resting in a palm propped by an arm against the table. She hadn’t even offered a sigh. But once everything seemed settled, she had turned to Adam. 

Who, in turn, was now looking at her. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said. 

“You don’t have to.” She leaned back in her chair. “Sometimes things just don’t make sense. He’ll be fine in an hour. A tantrum out in the chilled air will do him some good. I think the fact that we’ve been on these diagrams and articles for about,” her gaze flickered to the dull plastic clock in the room, “two hours straight might have gotten to him.”

His brow crumpled, “But I-“

“Adam, you have an amazing and terrifying sense of focus when you want,” she said, flipping a book shut with one finger. “Eli does not. I think I might have reached my limit too.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t move, didn’t relax. He remained, straight backed, in his chair. 

Carol leaned over the table and closed a book in front of him. “How about you and I take a walk? The air might do us good too.”

“It’s not that different from the air in here,” he said, “Why would it do anything different?”

Carol held his gaze, lips set in a firm line. She closed the second book in front of him. “We’re going for a walk. No more questions.” Adam looked down at her fingers which were still resting on the book cover, his gaze flicked up to hers, steady, and then with sudden motion, he closed the last book. 

“Okay,” he said. 

 

Carol walked with her hands settled inside of her pockets, her stride was sweeping, resembling someone on a swing kicking their legs out. Adam’s steps were more contained, more rhythmic. He kept pace with her, by jerking his movements shorter or forcing them to stretch just a little more. His hands remained near his hips, finger twitching into closed positions, only to jerk back out. 

“I don’t feel any different,” he told her. 

Carol rolled her eyes, pressing her lips into a smile. “Adam, we need to get you in touch with the metaphysical side of the world. You’re really going to tell me that you don’t  
feel any different out here, here in the open chilled air, moving, then sitting in that small, sickly little study room?”

There was consideration, finger twitching stilling only for a few moments. “No, not really,” he answered. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Well, no,” Carol said, “I guess I’m surprised that nothing gives you that sort of outside yourself feeling.” 

Silence stretched between them, their shoes scuffing along the path, with only a few worn spots, which they’d meandered onto. Carol was looking out ahead of them, taking in the long stretches of clearing. The forest was on the edge, standing in wait. Adam’s gaze flickered between the ground and a few feet in front of him. He hadn’t been convinced to wear a scarf yet. They felt tight, heavy. He didn’t want one. 

“Sometimes,” he said, causing Carol’s gaze to break from ahead to him, “when it’s night time and I’m standing outside, I feel empty.”

Expression smoothed from her face. “Empty? I’m not sure that’s a good response.”

“I like feeling that,” he said, touching the buttons on his coat. “There’s no noise. The clutter inside stops fumbling.”

Carol made a soft sound in her throat, trying his words on for size. “I guess I can see that,” she said. “Sometimes I forget that people feel positive things differently. I wonder what Eli thinks.”

Adam looked at her. “Do you think he’s okay now?”

“Probably. I feel like someday he’s just going to throw the biggest tantrum and wander into the forest,” she said, “and never come back. He can become an urban legend.”

“Do you thi--”

She laughed, full and sudden, “No, I’m joking, Adam. He wouldn’t do that. Eli isn’t a nature child. I’m the one that likes hiking and field research more than he does. God, after  
a week, he’d lose it camping.”

“Oh.” 

It wasn’t dismissive, it just a way to acknowledge that what Carol had said was understood, in some manner. Carol turned and bumped into Adam, pushing him to the left. She flashed a mouth of teeth at him and nodded in the direction she’d just nudged him. “Come on, let’s go back. I’ve got enough air and my headache is finally bailing on me.”

The housing was much warmer than outside. The heat was used sparingly, but in the commons room, there was usually a fire going. Before retiring, Adam and Carol had stopped to make some warm drinks and see if Eli showed up. She had a mug of tea, reflecting a deep red color in the light. Adam had a mug of hot chocolate. Carol had learned hot chocolate had to be prepared a specific way, one step by one step. This was unfortunately learned after making a round of beverages for herself, Eli, and Adam that hadn't quit met the standard. The latter had been very upset that it wasn’t hot chocolate and two days of silence proceeded from him. 

But since then, she’d brushed up her skills, her ‘Adam skills’ as she called them. They sat near the fire, her position turned more towards the warmth and Adam’s back to it. Her mug hovered near her mouth, firmly gripped in her hands. “I have a favor to ask of you,” she said.

Adam’s gaze slid to her then to the windows. “What?”

“I have to go into town tomorrow, for an appointment,” she said, turning the mug around in her hands. “I really hate going by myself. My roommate is busy with adviser meetings and Eli won’t be around. He has class stuff tomorrow.” 

“Friday,” Adam murmured. 

“Yeah, it’s a Friday. Tomorrow is Friday,” Carol said. “But, Adam, would you mind going with me? You can do whatever you want. I won’t be longer than an hour. I promise.”  
She pressed her lips together.

Tomorrow could be a way to test his Danish, try and read some of the signs and labels. But he wouldn’t be stranded either. He turned his head towards her, shoulders jerking back. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

The muscles in her face softened. “I’ll drive,” she said. 

“Drive where?”

Their attention was pulled to the appearance of their third companion. Eli’s shoulders were lax, arms not showing the tight strain they had earlier. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat down with them. 

“I have that appointment in town,” Carol said.

“Ah, yeah, yeah.” Eli dipped his head. “I remember. Sorry I can’t go with you. I have a project that I’m overseeing with a few other students. Tomorrow is the day that we have a  
shared time gap.”

“It’s no big deal,” Carol said. “Adam is going to go with me.”

Eli paused, hands resting between his legs, tilted lazily to opposite sides. His gaze shifted from Carol, to Adam (who was counting the dots on his mug), and to Carol again. She held his gaze with a quiet expression, the muscles on her face smoothed out. 

“Alright,” he said, squeezing his fingers together. “That’s not a bad idea.” 

Carol only mouthed ‘thank you’. Adam picked that moment to look at his friends. “I can practice what I’ve learned so far,” he told them.

“Practice what?” Eli turned to look at him. 

“Danish,” Adam said.

Just as the eye roll began, Eli closed his eyes, pulling a smile instead. “That’s right,” he said. “It is a good way to practice.” They sat there, at the table, quietly as time continued to pass. Eli leaned forward, elbows moving to rest on his thighs. “Just be safe you two. I don’t want to have to pick you up from some wild area in Denmark.”

“We’re not going hiking,” Carol said.

“Adam has a penchant for trouble and you wander too far,” he said.

“I’m not going to suddenly decide to run off into the forests of Denmark, Eli. I might get lost in town, but that’s really the only concern.” Carol crossed her arms, the mug of tea in front of her now empty. “We’ll be okay. We promise.” She turned to Adam.

His mug was pressed firmly in both hands, fingers covering all the spots on it. His lips twitched as he stared at the table. “We promise,” he echoed. 

“Dinner together, right?” Eli tilted his head forward.

“Yup,” Carol said.

“Why are you asking,” Adam said, lowering his eyebrows.

“I like his response better.” Eli pushed up from where he sat. Carol followed suit, grabbing her mug and Adam’s. Eli and Adam bid Carol a good evening, and returned to their  
apartment. When the door was shut and they were both settled on the couch with books and astronomy articles, Eli finally settled his focus on Adam.

“Will you be okay tomorrow?” he asked. 

Adam’s cheek twitched, sharp, mirroring how he felt when he was hovering in the middle of a sentence. He covered the paragraph with his hand, pulling his gaze up to Eli’s.  
“Is there something I don’t know,” he said.

“No.” Eli shook his head. “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay on your own in the town.”

Adam’s fingers smoothed over the glossy page of the magazine in his hands. It felt similar to the mug, only less solid. After Eli had shifted the position of his legs, Adam  
found the words he wanted. “I flew here from California,” he said, then uncovered the paragraph, turning his shoulders just slightly in the opposite direction of Eli.

There was the sound of a door shutting on the floor beneath him, two voices exchanged greetings. Eli watched Adam’s lips twitch, forming silent words, his finger touching the untextured black print of words on the page. He had flown here from California.

“Right,” he said. “Well, in that case, make sure Carol is fine. She gets weird about being alone in cars.”

The sentence rolled along Adam’s conscious and right off into the place all words and sentences stay when they aren’t given attention. Eli picked his book back up and  
stretched his legs out. 

He would have to think about dinner tomorrow. 

 

Carol had an early morning class that finished at nine o’clock. Adam’s research period finished at ten o’clock. After lunch was dealt with, they left at about twelve-thirty. Carol’s appointing was at one-thirty. The drive was only thirty minutes and it gave them plenty of time, which was mainly for Carol’s sake. Adam watched from the passenger side, noting the way her fingers curled tightly around the car’s steering wheel. She didn’t lean back the way she did when she sat in what she called ‘shotgun’. She was hunched forward, pursing her lips together when not making a comment about her studies or the scenery. 

It caused a sliding feeling inside of Adam. He didn’t like it. He could catch cups off a table, but he could not catch this. 

When they had parked the car near a small grouping of buildings, Adam wasn’t the first one out. Carol waited as he closed the passenger door, pulling at the lanyard before locking the doors. “Okay,” she said, “Do you want me to stay with you before I go in early?”

Adam surveyed the pinched muscles in her face. “No,” he said. “I’m going to the market.”

Carol adjusted the strap of her large, plaid wool bag. “Alright.” She exhaled softly. “Okay.” Her lips pressed into a smile, something was familiar. “Meet me back here at two-thirty?”

“Two-thirty,” he repeated.

Carol offered a small, confined wave and turned, walking herself through the cars on the small, square lot. Adam watched her, head bowing forward and her shoulders mimicking the square shape of the area. The buildings held no color but gray and white, looking much more modern than anything in the area. They were either newer or  
updated, and felt the need to be so. He squinted, looking at the words on the signs. Inside of him felt that he knew the words, but the line being drawn between word and answer  
kept falling short. 

He turned away, swallowing his heart beat as he looked at unfamiliar streets and sidewalks. He didn’t want Eli to find him in the forest. Adam began his trek down the sidewalk, pausing at intervals to study signs and place the words within their meaning. Some of the signs he deciphered, street names, shop names, and so on, but others still held perfect mystery. 

With a great sense of certainty and triumph, he stood before the market, with its muted flickering light and lightly dusted windows. He spent about twenty-minutes wandering inside, though he had been here previously. The difference was this time, there was no need, no list existed. What did people pick, what did they select when there was no list? 

After a good deal of peering, turning over, and words pronounced with only the movement of lips, the decision was settled on a small chocolate candy bar. His gaze never met that of the cashier and, with candy bar tucked into his palm, he exited. Even on a weekend, or the beginning day of a weekend, it was quiet. It sat on an opposite side from New York. He shuffled away from the door, twitching his gaze from one direction to the second. The agenda he’d organized was complete, having arrived at the market and bought something. 

The agenda was released, something softly let go in the water, as memories of running into Lucas in this spot appeared. Facial expressions were replayed, movements revisited. He began to wander the direction that Lucas had come from that day, candy bar still clutched in one hand and both arms held rather straight. The sun pressed light warmth onto the top of his skin was that visible. He could feel gentle waves against his cheeks, though he wouldn’t take his jacket off. There were no clouds, just blue sky above him. 

When the market was out of sight, and he was even further from his original starting point, it was considered that he might want to turn back, at some point anyways. The exploration had been fruitful so far and he didn’t want to leave the door open enough that something went wrong. He had passed a few people in his wandering, glancing down to avoid their expressions, to avoid seeing their eyes. 

Adam had stopped on the side walk, taking only a moment or two, to pause and turn. His first steps in the returning direction were halted when the sound of voices, young voices reached his ears. He glanced towards the origin point, spotting what he assumed were parents picking their children up. It was a Friday, maybe an early day for them also. What appeared to be a daycare was set behind a stone fence and an iron gate. There were people and children leaving from the gate, and some were just hovering around it, discussing whatever topic had been selected. 

Adam watched this exchange for a minute or two with mild interest. The voices were too low for him to hear the words and more than likely spoken with too much comfort for him to understand. A figure stepped around the gate and between the people hovering there, nodding acknowledgement to whatever they’d said to them. Adam felt his back muscles straight and tighten, blinking as his focus was broken. He recognized the person. 

He wasn’t sure that people usually ran across one another this often, but his mind brought up the population number he’d read on the Observatory flier. He’d compared the two numbers, that of where he’d resided in California and, at the time, the place he was considering attending. So maybe it wasn’t all that odd. But that didn’t remove the tight, sticky feeling from inside of him. Taking his gaze to the ground wasn’t an option, not when he couldn’t really pull his gaze away from Lucas, who was walking on the opposite side of the street.

And it wasn’t really an option when Lucas had slowed his stride and was returning the focus, but with less intensity. Adam bent his arm at the elbow and offered a wave that didn’t even complete its motion. His voice was somewhere far inside his ribs, residing with the rolling beats of his heart. His mind completed the image, Lucas raising a hand back and then picking up his walk once more. 

But it was the wrong one and Lucas was currently crossing the street to where Adam stood. He swallowed the prickling dryness in his mouth and as Lucas came to stop just a few feet from him, his voice stumbled over itself. “Hello,” he said, and asked, in Danish, how he was. It was stilted, sounding a bit pushed against a flat surface, but it resembled his English, understood, but uncomfortable. 

Lucas didn’t seem to take notice of it, instead his lips tilting into a very small smile. “Hello, Adam,” he responded, leaving a moment of silence, then telling him he was good and returned the question. 

Adam didn’t respond, caught up in that he understood what had been said to him. But a subtle tilt of Lucas’s head caused him to stutter out, “O-oh, I’m fine.” That half-smile was still present on Lucas’s face and Adam felt his own beginning to appear. Lucas glanced in the direction that Adam had been turning to follow back. He motioned with his hand and asked something Adam didn’t quite catch. 

The best Adam could come up with was, “Uh, well.”

“Going this way,” Lucas repeated, but in English. The words fell together in a continuous sound and Adam decided he liked how it sounded.

“Yes,” he said, “I need to go back.” He wetted his lower lip, jutting his shoulders back. He picked the words and then spoke them, telling Lucas that he had a friend waiting.  
She’d gone to an appointment. She didn’t want to go alone. Adam wanted to practice. 

Even with the stumbles and the multiple attempts at pronunciation, Lucas appeared to understand what he was saying. It was confirmed when he asked where the appointment was. Adam hadn’t read the sign. So, he told him, that way. 

Lucas’s lips twitched upwards just a little more. He asked something of Adam and Adam frowned, sucking part of his cheek between his teeth. He knew it was a question, he could tell, but he couldn’t understand exactly what was being asked. Did he want to something. Lucas appeared to realize that Adam was struggling with his question and he pressed his lips together for a second, then cleared his throat. “Would you like walk together?” he asked, voice pressing the words into firm sounds.

Adam wondered if there was something about his appearance, about his expression, that made people think he needed to take walks. He filed the question away for Eli later, knowing more than likely what Carol’s answer would be. She had, after all, insisted on a walk yesterday. His nod was sharp, ending with jerky movements. Lucas watched him, one hand smoothing a pocket on his jacket. 

He was supposed to turn and walk. That’s what he needed to do and all he had done was stand there, awkwardly positioned and looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. Adam jerked himself around and began to walk, without glancing at Lucas. His throat felt like it was trying to collapse down into his chest and ribcage, but then he heard the sound of accompanying steps behind him, and soon in his peripheral, he could see the green jacket.

There was a silence that balanced between companionable and tense. Adam tried to push it onto one side of the options, but found that he wasn’t actually sure where side was which. But before he could give into the static energy inside of him, Lucas was asking where he stayed. 

“Oh,” Adam said, “the observatory institute.” He paused, then tried his best to explain that he had an internship at the observatory. It was his final process before deciding one a grad-school he would apply to. It was good to have things listed on grad-school applications, things that announced his understanding and demonstration of the subject. Lucas asked if he’s studying astronomy, noting that he’d discussed it a few times. But he was unsure if he was a student or a worker.

“Student,” Adam said, “I would like to work with an observatory and research.” His mind lines up all his choices. “I like working with the technology side.”

Lucas tilts his head, peering curiously at him from behind his glasses. “What sorts?”

“Night sky navigation,” he says, memory bank having no Danish words for it. “Telescope lenses. Things like that are very important. They aide research for many institutions and most of the info that people read online or in magazines is because of these things. It would be hard to make the discoveries we have if astronomy didn’t keep getting better equipment. In a telescope, there’s more to it than people think. In fact, it h-” Adam had to draw in a breath, and in the pause, he heard his words, or the tail end of them. He shut his mouth, fingers clenching. 

Lucas had been looking ahead, but once again, he looked at Adam. “Yes?”

“Sorry,” Adam said, jaw clenching. He struggled with stopping the word tumbling still. “Sometimes, I get really, uh, focused. And I just keep talking. It’s… It’s a problem.”

Most people were hard to read. There were basic emotions he understood how to recognize (or use pinpoints to recognize), but the minor ones were as bad as feeling for an object in a sandy river bed. Lucas was in the unknown territory. His expression changed only subtly, in ways that Adam couldn’t glance at and discern. 

“It’s no problem,” Lucas told him. “You have great knowledge.”

Adam looked at him, trying to hold his gaze for as long as possible, but soon his focus was once again on the ground beneath his feet, and the market they were approaching. 

They’d made their way to the market and Adam felt a round sense of familiarity. “I talk too much,” he said, but the statement was more directed at the surroundings than either himself or Lucas.

“You talk well,” Lucas said, the words drawn out and tinging on unsure. 

Compliments deserve a thank you, rang Eli’s voice. So Adam said, “Thank you.”

They shared another silence that struggled with balance. When there is a pause, you should ask them something about themselves, Carol’s voice chirped. Adam bit the inside of his cheek gently, opening the box of questions he’d taught himself, and then arranged them in Danish. He asked Lucas what he did. The question was short, simple, but there was satisfaction. He was getting better. 

Lucas told him, once in Danish, but then in English when Adam repeated only part of sentence, trying to fill in the part he did not understand. Lucas worked in the daycare, he was a teacher of sorts. At the information, Adam’s mind opened a window that led to crammed streets, steady noise that became a heartbeat, a gentle smile, smooth brunette hair, and hands that wrote books for children. 

“A teacher,” he repeated, then said the word in Danish.

“Yes,” Lucas said, adding that he was there often. 

Adam was trying to pick another question when Lucas mentioned that Adam was using more Danish this time around. With stiff precision, Adam told him he’d been practicing. He wanted to read signs better and understand when things were said to him.

“No more lost,” Lucas said, grinning at him. 

Adam’s shoulder tensed and he hunched forward. “That was once.”

Lucas’s smile fell and he told him he was sorry. That he didn’t intend for it to sound mean. Adam couldn’t find the appropriate response, or what he thought he should respond with. There was a pressure, a gentle one, on his arm and he flinched, but paused as the pressure seemed to convey. Lucas let go of his arm.

“If you would want,” Lucas said, “I can help you.” As soon as Adam’s brows furrowed, he added, “Help you learn Danish. Much easier when someone can show you.”

There was a process to go through, a consideration of the positive and the negatives, honestly it was more what Adam felt comfortable with and what he shied away from. 

Before that process could start, his mouth was forming the words, “I would find that helpful.” 

Translated as, I would like that.

“I will help with Danish,” Lucas said, nodding once. “Deal.”

Adam remained where he was, waiting for a signal that he didn’t understand. Lucas watched him quietly, as he had since they day they’d met. He then patted his pockets. He asked if Adam had any paper, which Adam did. He kept some in his jacket pockets, along with a small pen in case an idea occurred to him, an idea of any nature.  
Lucas wrote down what appeared to be a phone number. “When you are not studying, give a call and we can meet,” he said, putting the paper in Adam’s hand, a firm, steady hand against a shaking, unsure one. 

“Okay,” Adam said. 

Lucas then motioned to across the street and told him that this was where they parted. Adam jerked his head in a nod. Lucas thanked him for the walk, bending over to try and catch Adam’s gaze as he had the last time they’d met. 

Adam’s gaze brushed his and he replied with a thank you of his own, muttered softly as his hand clenched around the paper. Lucas told him he looked forward to seeing him and that he hoped he had a good day. Words were scattered all over and Adam could not find the ones he wanted. 

As Lucas was stepping onto the opposite side, he called out a return ‘have a good day’. Lucas waved at him, showing that smile that made Adam want to meet his gaze and memorize how his lips curved up, and his teeth showed. He watched the man disappear, noticing that the warmth that had been sitting on his skin was now fading.  
The sky was giving up its blue for fluffy gray clouds. He checked his watch. Carol’s appointment was done by now. 

 

He found her waiting by the car, hands shoved deep into her pockets, her hair ruffled against the sides of her face. Her lips had no shape to them and her eyes reflected the now sun-less sky. When she noticed Adam, she gave a smile that mirrored being pulled by strings. 

“Hey you,” she said. “You have fun?”

“It was fine,” he said. “I took a walk.”

“A walk, huh,” she murmured, pushing away from the car. “It was nice weather for it till now.” She opened the driver’s door. “You ready to go home?”

Adam went to the passenger side and slid in, buckling the seat belt. Once his hands were placed, palm down and fingers spread, over his thighs, he turned his attention to Carol. She missed putting the key in once, then corrected it. The skin on her fingers was tight against the steering wheel. 

This was a pause. 

“How was the appointment,” Adam asked.

“It was good, fine,” she told him. “It went well.”

The words all meant the same thing and Adam wasn’t sure why the idea had to be repeated. “Okay,” he said, adjusting his elbow. There was a crinkle in his pocket that he hadn’t noticed before. Inside was the candy he’d bought earlier, intending to snack on, but had forgotten about when Lucas had showed up. He looked at it, then set it on the console. 

“I bought that,” he said.

Carol glanced at it, then at him. “Yeah?”

He settled his hands back on his legs. “Yes, but you can have it.”

She looked at the candy bar, and he heard a soft, shuddering exhale. Carol moved it off the console and set it in a cup holder so it wouldn’t slide.

“Thank you,” she said. 

That was the last conversation the entire drive.

 

Eli was in the kitchen when Adam stepped into the apartment. He hung his coat up and walked over to the doorway. Eli looked at him, the stove topped with pots that were spilling steam. He grinned at Adam.

“Welcome home,” he said. “How was the trip?”

Adam replayed the soft warmth of the sun, the rows of candy bars, the way Lucas walked with a lazy gait, and how Carol had been hunched over near the car. His tongue ran over his lower lip and Eli raised an eyebrow. 

“I cannot read Carol,” he said. 

Eli’s expression tightened and he put a hand on the counter. 

“I don’t know what to say to her,” Adam added.

One of the pots began to boil over, but Eli remained where he was, searching Adam’s face and Adam could only press his arms to his side. 

“She’s not joining us for dinner,” he said, repeating Carol’s words. “She was tired and she wanted to go to bed early.”

Eli’s expression only furrowed more. 

In the end, it was Adam that moved to take the pot off the burner, the strip of paper settled carefully in the back pocket of his pants.


	5. Give Me The Names I Do Not Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello.
> 
> I am very sorry this took so long. It ended up giving me some struggles, but here it is, and it's rather long. I'm a little surprised by it. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also, I apologize if the few Danish words I use are not correct. I am trying to steer away from writing out Danish since I do not know the language and I trust not the internet translators. Thank you for bearing with me. <3
> 
> Please forgive any inconsistencies you find between chapters. I am trying to keep an eye on them, but I am normally a short story writer. Longer pieces like this are a challenge. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your support and lovely comments. I'm just amazed at all the interest and kind words. 
> 
> Next chapter will have double Lucas. Promiiiiissse.

Chapter 5

The piece of paper had sat on his night stand for about four days, untouched, still crinkled in the exact ways from having been in his pocket, and also his hand. He did not tell Eli or Carol about the encounter and he did not tell them about the paper with the phone number. Once a day, he would sit on his bed and pick that small paper up, smooth out the crumples as best he could, press his thumb against each scrawled number, then put it back. 

Adam could not decide on what words sounded right. The simple statement would be “yes”. Yes, he would like to sit down with Lucas, listen to the manner in which he pronounced words, and hopefully repeat it back. But every time he practiced words similar to those, it would end in either frustrated silence or the words leading off into a meaningless direction. 

So he left the paper alone. 

Eli did not ask about Carol and Carol didn’t say a word about that day afterwards. Adam felt that there were things being piled upon each other, all around him, and he could not see over them now. Always ask, Carol told him during the first week they’d met, always ask when you want to know. But he could not discover the question that needed to be asked. It was on that shelf where things went to be out of reach. 

Everything moved in the way it always had. He could not see a change, but there is something that he could not touch.

When it had become the fifth day, Adam gripped his phone tightly in his hand. His fingers curled around it, squeezing it. The bed sank beneath his weight and his feet settled flat against the floor of his room. The paper was on his nightstand, the exact place he had left it every time. It crinkled in between his fingers. The phone number was punched in quickly.

The first time, he got it wrong. The numbers had been pressed too quick, too much panic. He hung up quickly. Adam counted to ten and tried again. The phone rang, and it rang, and it rang again. His mind replayed the numbers he pressed, matching them to the one scrawled on the paper. When doubt began to materialize, the ringing stopped.

“Goddag.”

There was no mistaking the low push of voice he’d heard previously. He swallowed, everything inside his mind flattening out. He should have written down what he needed to say. But he had not and now he was sitting on his bed, gripping the phone tight, and trying to figure out how to respond. 

“Ah, um,” was his start, “goddag.”

There was silence on the other side, silence in the space he could not see, he could not even begin to piece together. There was no glimpse, no starting point to imagine where Lucas was standing. He could not hear the soft noises of life shifting on the other side. 

“Adam?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Sorry.” He was unsure of what he was apologizing for. But it felt like it fit there. “I meant to call you earlier, but um, I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t, really.  
Sometimes it’s hard, it just doesn’t fit. It needs to fit, but I-” He dug his nails into his leg. The line was fading, he needed to stop rambling. 

Lucas was silent again and Adam wondered what filled those silences for him. What was reflecting inside of his mind?

“You would like to sit together,” Lucas offered. 

“Yes,” Adam replied. “I wanted to take you up on the offer, to uh, learn Danish.”

“I remember.” There was the sound of moving or something being moved finally. “I am glad you decided to accept.”

There was a soothing pull on the left side of his chest. Adam nodded, though he knew that it could not be seen. “Uh, where,” he said, stretching the image of what he knew of the small town. He had points of reference, but most of it was blank, long fields of white and no color, no lines.

There was a murmured sentence he did not understand. He did not ask what was said, maybe it would be repeated. He heard a heavy exhale and that soothing pull that had appeared began to fray. 

“Do you remember where meet last time?” Lucas asked. 

“The school?” He remembered the wire fence and the gate. 

“Mm, yes.”

“There, okay.” Adam closed his eyes. “Day?” There was a list of information he needed so everything would work smoothly. Getting lost was not an option, or the least  
desirable, really. 

“Friday?” 

The tone was missed. “Okay,” Adam said.

“Does it work for you?” Lucas repeated, words being added on. Sometimes more words were needed.

“Uh, yes, Friday is fine.” The current day was Wednesday. “Time?”

“There around three o’clock?” 

“Yes, okay.” Answers were limited to a small pool of words. “Around three o’clock.”

His breathing filled the area around him and there was no noise from the other side of the phone again. One muscle after another began to tense, and his teeth started to press together. 

“I will see you on that day,” Lucas said. “Farvel, Adam.”

“Ah,” the words were swimming away, “farvel.”

The other line clicked.

The sounds were soft, curtains pushed by breezes. “Farvel, Lucas.”

He sat on the bed afterward, staring down at the phone resting in his palm. There was a time, and there was a place, and there was a day decided. It was now an event, something that got written on calendars, a thing that needed to be remembered. But he didn’t need to put it in writing, his mind was now pushing the focus onto the future. 

When Adam exited his room, Eli was on the couch. There were books on the floor, open-faced downward, and messy. They had more than likely been shoved off in a fit of annoyance. Eli himself was sprawled over the cushions, one leg dangling off an arm rest, and an arm placed over his face.

“Why do I hate myself, Adam.” His voice was drawn out and the words pressed.

“You hate yourself?” Adam stopped by the couch.

“I think I might.”

Eli cracked an eye open and peered from beneath his arm when there wasn’t an answer, a question, or even a comment. Adam was staring at him, in the way he usually did which involved a few seconds of eye contact then two sweeping glances of the room, a few blinks, and the attempted eye contact once more. 

“It’s kind of a theoretical statement,” Eli told him and moved the arm off his face. 

“Theoretical means you’re posing an idea,” Adam said. “You asked me a question.”

“A theoretical rhetorical question,” Eli supplied.

And there was that silence again, only this time the adapted expression of Adam’s face was a frown. 

Eli sat up. “Yeah, yeah. I hear what I’m saying.” He relaxed back onto his hands, watching Adam. “Let’s ignore that entire exchange.”

Adam seemed satisfied by that and moved closer to the couch. Eli scooted over to make room for him, though Adam righted all the books first that had tumbled onto the floor, then sat down. He side glanced at Eli.

“… why do you hate yourself?” he asked, and when Eli began his own signature eye roll, added, “in the theoretical rhetorical answer.”

The first answer was a snort and Eli continued, “I just take on way too much work. And this is just an internship.” He ran a hand over his face, pausing it to rest on the left temple. “Don’t get me wrong, I think that even with an internship you should work as hard as possible, but I’m making this way more complicated than necessary.” 

Adam found that his pool of answers had nothing floating at the top and he chose to stay silent. 

Eli looked at him. “I’ve narrowed down my grad school choices and I guess I need to start the applications. So do you and Carol.”

“I will,” Adam said. Eli’s shoulders were slumped, legs now leaning outwards. There were darkened circles under his eyes, but his lips still turned upwards. “I won’t forget.”

“Don’t,” Eli told him and got off the couch. “I’m going to wander down to the common area to clear my mind. I’ll be back.”

Adam remained where he was, even after the door had clicked shut. His hands fidgeted, rubbing together, then pulling at the seams of his pant legs. He arranged the books that were on the floor, finding a more suitable home on the coffee table.

He stood in the room, feeling as if everything had stepped back and now he was the central and only figure. Today was Wednesday. Only Thursday stood between him and Friday.

 

Meetings with advisors were suggested. Nothing was ever required, but it was much easier to get anything done when you sat across from someone whose entire job was to offer suggestions. Adam sat across from Osvald, leaning back sharply with straight posture. There was a gentle lingering smell of coffee in the air and the empty cup was resting in the trash can. 

Osvald was flipping through a small folder of work Adam had been compiling and unlike Carol or Eli, his face did not twitch and there was no rustle of lips silently repeating the words or phrases uttered to himself. Adam’s jaw was pulled tight. 

Osvald closed the folder, rested his elbows on the desk, and looked across to Adam, even though the latter could not hold his gaze. “Well,” he began, and Adam realized that both Osvald and Lucas shared a heavy accent, “I have never worried about your intelligence. You will be a good addition where ever you apply.”

Adam nodded, swallowing the build up inside his mouth.

“Though,” Osvald tapped the file, “you have supplied a great amount of work, unlike your peers, Carol and Eli, you have not brought up your study destination. It leaves me  
wondering why.”

When the silence began to wrap itself around Adam’s shoulders and arms, he understood that this was not one of Eli’s rhetorical observations. “Tha-that’s because I have to decide where I stand the best chance of applying and being accepted,” he said.

Osvald’s eyebrows rose with a surprising degree of lightness in spite of their heavy, furred appearance. “Adam,” he said, “You stand an excellent chance of getting in anywhere you apply.” His fingers patted the folder once more. “This is your demonstration of competence, ambition, and intelligence.”

Adam showcased his confused frown. 

“Look, I want you to decide where you want to go,” he said, “not because of chances, but because you want to be there. You need to decide which institute of learning suits you best and apply. Do not think about percentage or figures. Find the place you gravitate towards and go to it. If you don’t get there, then there will be others.”

“I should find the place that suits me best,” Adam repeated back, trying the words on for fit. They were awkward, but they felt welcoming. 

“Yes,” Osvald said. “Where do you want to go, Adam, and why?”

Adam’s fingers traced the arm of the chair, feeling the smooth wood that sported a scrape here or there. He took the question and placed them within himself, turning them over, looking for the answer. But they were hollow, things that needed filling, and then maybe an answer would be present. 

“Do Eli and Carol know where they’re going?” He asked, remembering Eli’s comment on the matter of application.

“I think they do,” Osvald said. “And that is for you to ask them, not for me to tell.” He slid the folder back across the desk into Adam’s reach. “Just think about it, Adam. You will know eventually.”

He offered a grateful nod, short motions and smooth edges. The folder was tucked under his arm and he left the office, dodging students that had appointments after him. The office was always muted lights and hazy colors, filled with advisors and their possessions. Students were always staggered about, sitting in the few available chairs, propped against walls, back packs littering the area around them all. 

By the time he had exited the advisor office wing, breathing became much easier, the air easily sliding into his lungs and back out. The questions were still hanging somewhere in his mind, asking to be considered, and he would. There just didn’t seem to be a path to approach them on. He would find one, and then maybe he could piece the answers together. This wasn’t something he should put off. 

 

It was now Thursday, and it occurred to Adam, while he was sitting at a small table in the library, on the third floor, where it was quiet enough that someone could hear the carpet underfoot, that being in town meant finding a way to town. 

That was one aspect he had missed.

His pencil pulled away from the paper, where he had been recording the comparison of lens ranges, and he stared across the table, at the rows of books held within wooden shelves. It had the faint smell of old binding and walls that had been standing for a great length of time. The library was wood fixtures and deep blue carpet that was faded in random patches. It was much easier to contain himself and his mind here, and he always sat on the third floor. 

Which is why Carol knew where to find him. She appeared from between bookshelves and offered a half wave. Adam’s gaze ticked onto her and in return he offered a flat smile. She took the seat across from him, setting her laptop down. The table was at the end of a row of bookshelves, shielded by them, and on the other side was a walk-way and large windows allowing him to gaze outside when his mind begin to wander. 

“Hello, Adam,” she said, voice hushed and soft as the steps on carpet. 

“Hello,” he said, and a question tumbled from him before he even considered its weight. “How are you?”

Her movements tightened and stilled, hand poised over her laptop and her body leaning to the right, where her backpack sat on the ground. The muscles in her cheek twitched and finally a smile found its way to her lips again. “I’m alright,” she told him. “You saw me yesterday. Why are you asking?”

Adam jerked his neck, chest filling with a nervous breath. “I don’t know. Just felt like I should.”

Carol pulled a binder from her backpack and put it beside her laptop. “Thanks for asking, though. You’re a pretty good person, you know that?” She opened the binder, her gaze unable to meet Adam’s. It was a strange reflection and Adam wondered if this was how other people felt. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, because nothing else tasted right or fit the shape. 

They lapsed into silence. Adam split his time between staring at the screen of his own laptop, filled with pages of information about telescopes and their lenses, and watching Carol’s hand jot down notes onto her paper. Her expression smoothed out when she studied, all the twitches and pulls that normally inhabited her face were gone, now leaving a concentrated void. 

When she’d finished the second side of her paper, he decided to pose his problem to her. “Friday,” he said.

She glanced up, eyebrows raising. “Friday?”

“Is there anyone going into the village then?” he asked. 

She straightened up, regarding him across the table. “Maybe. Probably at least one person.” She stroked a finger alongside her pencil. “Do you need to go into the village?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you need to get something?”

“No.”

When he didn’t offer any more information, she let out a sigh. Her hair was falling into her face as it was wont to do when she turned something over in her mind repeatedly. Adam was about to turn his focus back to his laptop when she pushed one of her papers with her pencil.

“I can take you,” she said.

“You… you can?” His expression crumpled together. “Do you have another appointment?”

She shook her head, “No, but I mean, sometimes it’s nice to just have time to myself.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, it’s returning the favor.”

“Favor?” he echoed.

“Yeah, when you kept me company at my appointment,” she said, “I’m returning the favor.”

“Oh.” An exchange wasn’t something he’d considered when he’d said yes. 

“I know,” she told him, “you don’t expect something back. But I don’t mind. I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” he said, head beginning to tilt up and down in acknowledgement, like a small ship on waves, “Okay.”

Her grip tightened on her pencil and she leaned back over her notes. “Just let me know when to leave.”

The sound of her pencil swiping across paper filled the small area around them and Adam watched the sharp jerks and pointed motions. He settled his hands back on the keyboard of his laptop and left the conversation behind him. 

 

When Friday rolled around, Adam’s nervous hum became more apparent. Eli watched him from the kitchen as he rearranged all the food on his plate at breakfast. The coffee mug switched sides about three different times and he’d set his fork down and picked it up again at least six different times.

“You okay over there?” Eli asked as he brought his plate to the table.

“Yes,” Adam said. 

“Don’t tell me yes when I’ve just witnessed you move every single thing in front of you around,” Eli said and sat down. “What’s going on?”

Adam drew his shoulders up and then released the tension in them. “Going to town today,” he said. 

“Carol mentioned that.” Eli nodded, taking a bite of the French toast he’d made. “You’ve been to town before, relax.”

Adam picked his fork up once more and started eating. 

“Just make sure you two are careful and have some fun,” Eli told him, pointing his fork in his direction.

“We will,” Adam said, though his tone held more absence. 

Eli rolled his eyes and let it be.

 

There was a wavering sense of déjà vu surrounding the car ride. Adam was, as usual, in the passenger seat. He had a warm jacket on and a scarf firmly wrapped around his neck. The radio had suggested dressing warm and the sky was beginning to reflect that suggestion. Carol sported both of those plus a crocheted hat. There had been pattering conversation during the first fifteen minutes of the drive, but now they were letting the silence sit between them. 

She didn’t ask any questions about what he was going to do in the village and Adam didn’t pursue the train of thought with her. She probably had plenty of things to occupy her time. 

When the car was parked and they were standing on the sidewalk, Carol watched him for a moment, then tilted her head. “If you need anything, call me, okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” he told her.

“I know you will,” she said, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I’m just saying if something comes up.”

“I’ll call,” he said.

She grinned, “You got it.”

Adam watched as she turned on the heels of her shoes and began to stride away from him. Curiosity fluttered through him for only mere seconds and then he was turning, finding the way he’d previously walked on his last trip.

When the kindergarten came into his view, there was a mellowing sense of relief. Adam paused across the street from it, ticking the accomplishment down inside of him. He peered at the fence and beyond, trying to catch a glimpse of Lucas. Currently, he wasn’t visible. With that discovered, Adam walked himself across the street and paused near the gate of the kindergarten. 

There was a small herd of children scampering about and he concluded that class was over. This must have been close to the time that the parents would show up and take them home. He’d run across the kindergarten around this time previously. He stepped up to try and see if, with the change of space, Lucas was visible. But all he could see was children doing what they do best, playing. 

A gentle warmth from far away drifted into his mind and took his focus from in front of him back to a place he hadn’t seen in quite a while. A place with tall buildings that loomed over streets smashed together. Cars formed tango lines and pedestrians became a sea and not bodies. There was a place there with stone walls and an iron barred gate. At some point, he had been waiting there for the exact reason he was here. 

There had been two men who had approached him, he looked out of place, they had ask-

Someone was speaking to him.

Adam jerked his gaze to the person addressing him from the other side of the fence. It was an older woman, with grayed hair and eyes that appraised an object within seconds. She was asking him something, it was in Danish and his nerves piled all the words on top of another. He could not find the right order.

“I-I’m just waiting for someone,” he said, taking a step back. Maybe distance would allow him to get the words in order. Her expression furrowed and she said something else but they did not connect to anything in his mind. He was out of place again, he should not have been standing so close. His fingers burned with a prickling, and his heart was contorting within him. He could swallow and his mouth dried up.

“I, I wasn’t here to cause trouble,” he said, “I don’t know a-any of the kids.” His mind scrambles for ‘I’m sorry’ and he cannot remember what the words looked like on the page or how they fit in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m just waiting for Lucas.” 

He took a step back when she moved closer to the gate and with a hasty thrown “I’m sorry, g-good day”, he turned on the balls of his feet and began to walk down the street, pulling all his senses within him, hearing the static bounce around inside of him. There was no spot to put his hands, they were jerking and his fingers kept clenching and releasing. His breath came in small, cut off motions and it pressed against his chest. 

When Adam finally stopped, deeming himself a good enough distance away from the kindergarten, he barely contained kicking the pavement, or at least scuffing it with his shoe. Be calm, they always told him, just stand there and try to at least smile. People would be less confused, less unsure if he did that.

But he hadn’t. 

If he had, then maybe he would have remembered all the words he needed. But they were missing right now. His hand reached into his pocket, fumbling to find his phone. Call, if something happened, that’s what she’d said. 

“Adam.”

All his muscles tightened and he paused, glancing to where his name had been spoken from. Lucas was walking along the sidewalk, headed straight for him, and if Adam  
hadn’t known any better, maybe a little out of breath.

“Hello,” Adam said, remaining where he was. Lucas stopped only a few feet from him, watching him from behind his glasses.

“Where were you going?” Lucas asked and Adam felt that string inside of him pull tight once more.

“I, I just,” his voice could not find itself, “I shouldn’t have b-been so close and I didn’t understand the words, it’s happened before, I shouldn’t have done that. I was too close, and they don’t know me and I don’t know them an-” 

“I told them I was waiting for someone,” Lucas said, adjusting his glasses. “You should have stayed.”

He counted the fingers on his hands, two, four, six, eight, and ten, and the muscles in his back twitched. There was silence spreading between them for a minute and Adam finally said, “I’m sorry” and offered an unsteady nod. Lucas expression turned into a straight smile and he motioned for Adam to follow him. 

Adam stood a few feet from the gate this time and let Lucas finish up whatever he needed to do. The chill in the air was beginning to attach itself to all warm objects and Adam tucked the scarf around his neck tighter. He stayed out of sight best he could until Lucas returned.

When Lucas appeared once more, he motioned to the sidewalk and asked, in Danish, if Adam was ready. His words were back and they were lining up again. They fell into an easy walk, and Adam wondered where Lucas would take them. They hadn’t discussed where they’d end up, it hadn’t been something he’d focused on. 

Lucas had decided on a small café which provide plenty of items to discuss but a quieter atmosphere. Once seated, he ordered himself a cup of coffee and Adam wore a rather lost expression. Lucas asked if he liked coffee and Adam’s nose wrinkled, memory filling with the time Eli had offered him some and that moment had ended with Adam’s discovery of his dislike of coffee. 

Through a rather round about conversation, Adam finally offered up that he liked orange juice and that was what he was given. The drinks now placed in front of them, Adam glanced out the window, gaze flickering from one thing to the next while Lucas quietly studied him. Eye contact had been minimal since day one. 

Lucas cleared his throat and Adam’s gaze jumped back to him. “The observatory,” Lucas said, “that’s where you work, right?”

“Internship,” Adam supplied, thinking that he’d told Lucas this before.

Lucas’s expression became blank and Adam’s pulse flickered under the surface of his skin. They stretched silence between them and finally Lucas tilted his head. Something  
about the motion and the look on his face, reminded him of Eli when he didn’t understand.

“Ah, um,” his mind began to supply other words, “studying, but not an actual student. Just practice. After this internship, I need to find a place to go to grad-school.”

“Do you know?” Lucas asked, fingers skimming the cup of coffee in front of him. 

“No,” Adam said, an image of Osvald leaning forward on his desk, watching Adam intently. “I don’t know.” He added, “Yet.”

“How long is the study?”

“It’s just under a year.” He had only been here about a month, which meant that the time remaining to lapse was still larger.

“And you didn’t learn any Danish?” Lucas’s eye brows were raised and Adam could not see any signs, or any that he had been told that signified a joke. 

The lack of signifiers caused a bristle inside of Adam and his shoulders hunched, hands sliding away from his glass of orange juice. “It, it was a quick decision,” he said, pulling his throat tight and sharpening his tone, “I hadn’t expected to come here.”

Lucas held his hands up in a surrender. “I am sorry. I did not mean it to be like that.”

Adam remained tensed, glancing out the window and attempting to walk himself through the exercises he’d been taught, breathe out, let go, and then move on. “It’s okay,” he said, reaching out to touch the glass in front of him once more. “I want to learn it now. I’ve been trying.”

Lucas didn’t respond for a few minutes and when Adam was beginning to fidget, tempted to stand up and move, the other man across from him held up his coffee mug. “We can start here,” he said. Adam’s focus centered on him, narrowing all the peripheral to Lucas. 

“Kop,” Lucas said, and the word fit his accent, tucked itself in the sound and sounded right. 

“Kop,” Adam repeated back, his voice sticking to the edges and leaving the space empty. 

Luca’s lips almost twitched upwards, and maybe just a millimeter of the edges did, but it wasn’t outright noticeable. He said the word once more, allowing Adam to hear where the stress lay and didn’t, and let him try again.

And from there, they moved to other objects, tables, and plates, and jackets, and Adam practiced asking for things or asking about things. The words didn’t always fit together how he wanted, and there was a stutter between Danish and English for him, but he kept rapt attention. 

When Lucas was getting a second cup of coffee, and he’d had Adam order another glass of orange juice on his own, his curiosity crept up from where it had been quietly sitting. He glanced at Lucas a few times, wanting the right words. 

“You… teach?” he asked, then paused, and rephrased the question in Danish. 

Lucas glanced up from his coffee and responded that he did indeed work in the kindergarten. Adam responded, partly in Danish and English, that he knew someone back in America who worked with children, they even wrote children’s books, or one at least. Maybe there would be more. 

“I enjoy being around children,” Luca said, leaning his elbows on the table. There was a pause but then Lucas added that sometimes people thought of him as childish because of it. 

Adam shrugged, noting all the tiny scratches on the table top. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, “I really only enjoy space and stars.” There wasn’t a response, not right away, and he glanced up to find Lucas grinning at him from where he sat. Adam looked away quickly.

“I can tell you like it a lot,” Lucas said. 

Adam had no idea what to do with the sentence and he decided that ignoring it was best, so he offered a question. “Do you like to write?”

Lucas shook his head, “No, not really.”

But then he ventured into territory he was curious about once more. “Do you like astronomy?”

Lucas accepted the question, leaning back just a bit from the table. “I like looking at the night sky,” he said, “but I don’t know very much about it.”

Adam leaned forward then. “Oh, I can teach you some stuff. You can teach me Danish and I can tell you about stars, and planets, and some galaxies. There’s also comets and meteors and sun spots. I know about those too. You can give me more words and I can give you star names. Maybe you can even help me learn some of the names in Danish, or terms, a name is a name, I think. May-”

He forced himself to stop. He’d had to take a breath. Most people would look at him with a smile that wilted at one side of the mouth, and angle their shoulders away from him. But Lucas still sat across, facing him straight on and the smile had returned.

There was an apology forming on his lips, but Lucas said, “We could do that. Learning new things is good, healthy.”

And now Adam felt his expression responding, drawing both sides of his mouth into an awkward smile that sat a little crooked. He ducked his head, and moved to touch the edge of his glass, but his fingers bumped it with more force than he’d intended and it fell, spilling over the table. 

The chair scraped against the ground as Adam stood up straight, fumbling to right the glass. The attention it attracted cut his deep breaths in half, turning them into a stuttering tight motion. Lucas frowned and moved to help him. 

“No,” he snapped, grabbing at the napkins that sat near the edge of the table. His hands were jerking all over, and he lost a few napkins in the process. 

Hands, large and warm, took hold of his wrists and firmly made the frantic clean up pause. Adam refused to look up, his chest and stomach sinking in heavily and then filling back out. There was a small copper taste in his mouth from where he’d bite the edge of his lips on the inside.

“Adam.” 

He chanced a look up this time and there was no frown waiting for him, only Lucas’s smooth expression. The hands on his wrists squeezed gently and let go, removing the crumpled pile of napkins from his trembling hands. 

“It is okay,” Lucas said, and with controlled, gentle swipes, began to clean up the mess. “It is only juice.”

Adam sucked on his teeth. It is only juice, he repeated. Lucas was not mad and he did not sigh. He picked up some of the extra napkins and helped clean the rest up, mimicking Lucas’s motions. “I, I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. 

“It is okay,” Lucas said again, and pried the napkins out of Adam’s hands again. “Go ahead and sit down.”

He did as he was told and sat back down, pressing his fingers together and feeling them stick from the sugar of the orange juice. Lucas disappeared for a few moments, and when he returned, he had a new glass and the napkins were gone.

He took his seat again and scooted the glass over to Adam. “Where were we?” he asked, looking around the café. “Do you know how to ask where you are?”

Adam shook his head. Breathe, let it go, and move on. 

“Why don’t we start there?” 

The incident was set side, hidden where he couldn’t see it in his mind’s eye. Lucas had him asking questions about direction and place, and Adam wondered if it had to do with their first meeting. But he didn’t ask that and instead, noticed that that the sky had taken on a darker shade, with the clouds piled above. There was no evening light as usual when the clouds were away or just scattered puffs, but even then, with how the shadows fell, he could tell they were approaching dinner time.

Lucas seemed to catch his meaning and finished the last of his coffee. “Do you have dinner times?” he asked.

Adam shook his head, “No, not really. But I eat with two people.”

“It might rain tonight,” Lucas said and finished his coffee. “You should head back to the observatory.” Adam looked away, then nodded, two dips and then the usual short, quick nods. But neither of them moved and the silence filled the area between them. 

Lucas fidgeted with the cup in front of him, turning it around twice, and then rubbing a hand over the edge of the table. He shifted in his seat and looked back at Adam. “If this was helpful, maybe we could, uh,” he adjusted his glasses and didn’t finish the statement, mirroring Adam’s behavior. 

“I still only know basics,” Adam said.

“Then we can plan for another meeting.” 

“Okay.”

The chairs scraped across the floor as they stood. Adam pulled his phone out and texted Carol, alerting her that he was done and would probably meander back to their meeting spot. Lucas motioned to Adam’s phone.

“You have my number,” he said. 

“I do,” Adam responded. 

There was uneven feeling between them and Adam wasn’t sure what option to pick. This was not an interview but he wasn’t sure if Lucas was technically a friend. How did he say goodbye? But Lucas reached forward and offered a gentle squeeze on Adam’s arm.

“Farvel, Adam.”

And the way those words pushed together and sounded so familiar and yet so foreign, made him reach up and brush his fingers against the fabric of Lucas’s sleeve.

“Farvel, Lucas,” he returned and they parted ways. The air outside now, instead of building a chill, was wielding it. Even with his jacket and scarf, it sat inside of him. A shiver ran through his arms and back, but he still looked behind to see Lucas disappearing down the street and he frowned. 

 

Carol was rubbing her hands together when he found her. She flashed a large smile at him. “Hey you,” she greeted. “Ready to go back for dinner? I’m starving. Maybe we should tell Eli to start something warm.”

He climbed into the car without a word and Carol sat in the driver’s seat, hands resting at the bottom of the wheel, and watching him. His shoulders were slumped forward and his fingers kept twitching to rest curled against his palm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

Adam’s gaze twitched in her direction. “What does…”

She dipped her head forward. “What does…?”

“When someone says that you have their number,” he said, “what does it mean?”

Carol raised an eyebrow. “Well, it usually means that should contact them, since you know, you have their number.”

“Oh.”

The wind began to stir around the car and they sat there until Carol decided it was too chilly to not have the heater on. The car shuddered and hummed, the air that first exited through the vents was almost as cold as the air outside.

“Did someone give you their number?” Carol asked. 

Adam looked out the window, an odd pressing developing inside his chest. Carol leaned back in her seat and turned her gaze ahead of her, through the windshield. 

“It’s okay, Adam. I’m not going to scold you or anything,” she said. “The person you met today, it’s the same one you told Eli and I about, the one you wanted to learn Danish for.”

The scenery outside was gray in scale, every color muted by the clouds over head and the fading remains of light. Carol traced a pattern on the steering wheel, and finally  
sighed, putting the car in drive.

“I promise I won’t be mad,” she said, once they were off village streets. “I don’t know of any reason to be mad. I mean, it seems like you’re making a new friend. I think that’s good and someone local.”

The clock on the dashboard moved forward two more minutes and then Adam turned from the window. “So I should call them,” he said.

Carol tightened a laugh from escaping her throat. “Well, yeah, I guess,” she said, “If you want to spend time with them again.”

“They’re helping me learn Danish.”

“Wait, so the person you wanted to learn Danish for is now helping you?” She chanced a look in his direction, lips stretched into a smile. “I think I like that entire situation. Do they know?”

“Should they?” Adam asked, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Not if you don’t want them to,” she said, “I guess that could be a little awkward. Less awkward is needed.”

Adam smoothed his hands over his thighs, nodding to himself. “Okay, I will call them.” He’d accomplished it once. A second time would be like walking down a path already cleared of snow. 

“I think you should.”

When he turned his attention back to the window, Carol turned the radio on, and left it.

 

Eli had the table set when they returned and as soon as the door was shut and the de-layering began, he appeared from the kitchen. There was a dish towel thrown over his shoulder and all three places settings were present. He motioned to the table.

“Everything is ready,” he said. “Just grab your plate and go to the kitchen.”

“Hello to you too,” Carol said, placing her shoes on the shoe rack and moving to pick her plate up.

“You’ve been for about six hours, not an entire week,” Eli responded. “I’m giving you an adequate greeting, so stop it.”

Adam retrieved his own plate, the one without the faulty edge design. Carol and him discovered that Eli had made what appeared to be gourmet mac ‘n cheese along with a side of vegetables. She raised an eyebrow at Eli who shrugged.

“You cook next time,” he said, his own plate in hand. 

“I like this,” Adam said, and he hadn’t even tasted it yet. He was the first to get a helping and sit down, followed by Carol, and then Eli. Eli snorted at the fact Adam hadn’t even waited for them, already putting a forkful in his mouth. After each person at the table had at least two bites, the questions started.

“So, how was the trip?” Eli asked.

“Fine,” Carol told him. “I just kind of explored the village, found some interesting shops, asked the locals about areas that might be good for star gazing. It was relaxing.” She took a drink of the water beside her plate. “Got cold though. I’m not looking forward to winter.”

“You mean you’re not looking forward to piles of snow?” Eli offered a flat and smug expression.

“Shut up.” She pointed her fork at him.

Eli chuckled and turned to Adam. “What about you?”

“Practiced my Danish,” he said, and that was all he offered.

“Okay, well, how did the practice go?” Eli scooted the pasta around on his plate. “Sounds like you didn’t get lost.”

“I was okay,” he said. “I know new words now.” A thought returned to him. “Do you think there’s books on astronomy in Danish?”

“What, so you can learn the Danish terms for everything?” Eli tilted his head and it was confirmed by Adam’s nod. “I think that’s the sanest thing yet to come out of this obsessive learning of Danish.”

“I would think so,” Carol said. “We’re in Denmark, studying astronomy. It would be weird to not have that sort of material available.”

“We can keep an eye out for it,” Eli said.

“Please, first thing tomorrow Adam’s going to look for it.” Carol laughed, setting her fork down. 

Adam looked between them, thumb rubbing the stem of the fork. “Why should I wait? I’d like to get started immediately.”

“Wish I had that kind of motivation about anything,” Eli said and let his shoulders fall forward. But then he straightened up, “Oh wait, I meant to tell you two something. Tonight, one of the other dorms is hosting a party. We should go. Tomorrow is Saturday and we can stay up. It’s just a large get together for grad students and interns.”

Carol glanced at the ceiling, weighing her thoughts. “Okay, why not. I’ve been working hard enough.” She turned to Adam. “What about you?”

He gave a tight shake of his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Adam. We’ve been working our butts off.” Eli leaned forward. “You don’t even need to stay that long.”

He shook his head again which earned a groan from Eli and pursed lips from Carol. “It’s just people from here, no one else. I bet you’ll recognize lots of them from classes and the halls and the library,” Carol said. “And we’ll be there. Come for an hour and then you can go.”

He looked between the coaxing smile on Carol’s face and Eli’s daring look. An hour, that was sixty minutes and three-thousand six-hundred seconds. His mind sorted all the outcomes, and what would be easiest to sit through. 

“Okay,” he said. “I will attend, but only for an hour.”

A shared “yes” broke out from his friends and soon, dinner was being consumed with intent. Only Adam stilled separated everything into the piles it needed, vegetables from the pasta, and ate with a quiet ease. He was the last to leave the table.

 

 

What did a person wear to a party, he wondered. Adam stood in front of the mirror in his room, eyeing the simple long sleeved shirt and pants he wore. Carol had made a big deal out of what to wear, and he’d glimpsed Eli standing in front of him own closet, one finger tapping his chin. 

He hadn’t planned on worrying about this. Clothes were clothes and they served the purpose he needed. But that silent apprehension, tilting like a see-saw in his mind, made him re-consider, and he had changed into a better shirt, with no wear, and a newer pair of pants. His body mimicked the posture Eli had been displaying, attempting to see if there was a secret he was missing.

Apparently, there wasn’t.  
Carol met him and Eli at their door, dressed in a simple burgundy dress with cream stockings, and some sort of flat shoes. Her hair was posed in a way he hadn’t witnessed yet and there seemed to be more details in her make up. Eli had put on a button up along with a solid vest, paired with a pair of jeans. There was a looked shared between Eli and Carol that Adam could not match in his head.

“Let’s party,” Carol said and grabbed their arms. 

The first thing that stood out to Adam was that there was a lot of people. He was aware that the institute housed a great deal of students and researchers, but he’d rarely seen large groups of them outside of the eating area and offices. But now, they were grouped in all areas of the common room. Furniture had been moved to give more space and all that created space was being consumed.

He rolled his shoulders, remaining behind Carol and Eli. There wasn’t going to be enough air to breathe in this place, eventually, everyone would have used it. His fingers adjusted the hem of his shirt and discovered that his pockets were still intact. Eli moved away from them, acknowledging someone that he knew, and engaged in conversation with them. Carol touched her fingers to Adam’s arm and told him she’d returned, then disappeared into the room.

Adam remained where he had been left, near the edge of the room, with only wall behind him and no bodies, nothing to approach him. They could only come from in front of him. He would see them. Carol returned and handed him a plastic cup filled with a dark liquid with bubbles. He looked at her and then at the cup.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Soda,” she told him, “I won’t give you alcohol. I promise.”

“Alcohol tastes bad,” he said, and took a small sip of the soda. It tasted like coke.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grinned. “I hear you. But I like things that taste bad.”

He wrinkled his nose at her.

Their attention was drawn to Eli returning with two people in tow. Carol’s posture straightened, but Adam only crumpled more in on himself. She shook their hands, repeating “Cory” and “Mille”. His name was given by Eli and Adam awkwardly shook hands, all but missing Mille’s hand at the first try. Topics were exchanged, the ideas of study, and what everyone wanted to focus on.

“Orbit,” Mille said, “that’s what I’m curious about. Not a big field at the moment though.”

“No idea,” Cory said, “I kind of like it all. I can’t decide if that’s a bigger problem than being specialized or not.”

Adam glanced down, noting the way the bubbles would appear at the surface of the liquid in his cup, remain there for a second or two, then give up and disappear. The words stopped floating into his consciousness and he returned his focus to the people around him.

“We were asking what area of study you were interested in,” Mille suggested, the smile on her face pulled tight.

“O, oh,” he said, “Telescopes, their lenses. Lenses are a big feature, probably one of the most important. Range is good, but that’s partially limited by lens. Clarity is directly related to lens. The mechanics of a scope and structure, necessary, but it boils down to what can be seen and reflected. That’s lenses. It’s kind of like a camera, but less about capturing and more about focus. I mean, the lenses for cameras are important too, most people have several. Very few can do everything. I-”

Carol’s hand was touching his arm, eyebrows raised and her expression all smooth edges and soft words. Eli’s mouth was tilted to one side, but he made no move.

“That sounds nice,” Mille said, though Cory held a frown in his features. “I mean, you’re right, those things are important. I don’t know much about them. Not really my field, I guess.”

“He’s got it covered,” Cory said, “No worries.” His attention turned to Eli. “You mentioned that you three also worked with navigation and easier mapping of the night sky in technology.”

“Yeah,” Eli said, “we were testing something for Osvald the other night, actually.”

The condensation on the outside of his cup was now on his hand and Adam felt like he only had a second or two before he disappeared. He was not part of this small, human shaped group in front of him. All the angles were wrong and his own could not fit. 

Adam turned and walked away from the other four, passing person after person, catching a shoulder or two in the process. There wasn’t going to be any air left, and he stepped outside into the chilled air. There were still people present, but in a much smaller scale, and they kept to themselves, many balancing cigarettes between fingers. He stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the door, and watched how his breath froze in the air and drifted upwards, never stopping until it couldn’t be seen.

“Hey.” Carol’s voice drifted from behind him. “Are you okay?” The edge of her dress appeared in his peripheral. 

He nodded, swallowing on the dip twice. “Yes, I’m fine,” he said. 

“You can go home, it’s alright,” she told him, arms crossed over her body for warmth. “We probably won’t stay long.”

The motion that had been performing a nod now changed to shaking. “It’s okay. I think I need a walk.”

There was a breathless laugh from her. “A walk, huh? Okay, well, be safe, Adam.” Her hand found his arm again. “You’re really smart, you know that? Eli and I like you a lot.” There was a squeeze on his arm and then she was heading back into the dorm.

Adam glanced upwards, to where the stars sat placed in their spots, shimmering in their designated colors, a forefront to that dusty speckled background. 

The walk back to his own dorm was quiet, and his mind drifted through the day, cataloging his experience on the present Friday. The squeeze Carol had given him connected itself to the one that Lucas had given his arm. It hadn’t caused the shudder in his back and he hadn’t tried to avoid the touch with most people. It was much easier to sit across from the man and listen to the way his lips formed words, ones that Adam accepted and repeated back, than find a conversation chart for people he’d never met. 

It was like sitting with Eli and Carol, only he didn’t know yet if Lucas chewed pencils or pushed books from tables. He did not know if he liked to drink things that tasted bad, or if pasta with a cheese sauce was an attempt at gourmet. 

You have my number, had been said. 

And Adam found the phone in his pocket once he was inside his dorm, gripping it in his fingers.

The crumpled paper was where it always had been.


	6. Your Eyes Reflect My Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm sorry it always takes so long to post. I am a very slow writer it seems and this story seems even slower than others I've written. I hope it's worth the wait, it has double Lucas as I mentioned last chapter. 
> 
> Please forgive any inconsistencies. 
> 
> Thank you for kind comments and support.

Adam had decided a mere five minutes prior that this ‘going for a walk’ thing that everyone brought up wasn’t so bad. Maybe it had been Carol’s enthusiasm about it, or he’d just found whatever feeling it was supposed to elicit, but it was something he could find a center in, an activity to just become part of. 

Lucas’s stride was much different than either Eli or Carol, and he walked with a sort of long legged, meandering sweep. Eli’s walk was contained, steps decided before they touched the ground. Carol’s was a swing, a lazy swing forward, and Adam always found himself struggling to remain level with them. But they were back at the observatory and Lucas was the one beside him, and they were going for a walk together in the village. 

Lucas’s gaze had flickered above them at the sky. “The clouds make it hard to see at night, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Most of the time, when it’s cloudy, telescope work gets put on hold,” Adam told him. 

“Do the students and professors become doven?” Lucas asked.

Adam’s lips twitched, cycling through the words they’d discussed. “Lazy?” 

Lucas nodded.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he said. “Eli complains that everyone are slackers all the time. I’m not sure.”

An uneven chuckle was the response. Lucas then turned his attention to the fence and gate they were passing, and asked Adam if he knew the words in Danish. He knows what gate is from the studying he did on his own, but the rest he is lost on. They paused, words being explained, offered, and repeated. Adam is beginning to pick up vocabulary with more ease. He cannot decide though if constructing the sentence himself or if trying to dissect another’s sentence harder. Both push his balance from level to grappling. 

The sky had been a gentle gray, now it was a gray saturated with a heavy burden and the clouds hung low, pressing together as if hiding from the storm they might bring. The fall chill was present, as it was most days, but now it crawled its way into sleeves and creases, burrowing deep. Adam had almost considered turning down the invitation to wander nowhere in particular, but he’d concluded that jackets and layers existed for a reason. 

But that didn’t stop the soft burn that brushed the tip of his nose. 

Lucas had stopped quizzing him and they walked in silence, Adam surveying the area with its mellow greens and leaning trees. New York was patterns and structures of buildings, and California swung between its sunny skies and reflective concrete, but Denmark, so far, was quietly holding hands with the native vegetation, rolling with the landscape instead of on top. 

“I do not understand language,” Adam said, his mind now weighing a topic that had veered. Lucas glanced at him, the corners of his lips tipping upwards.

“You do not understand Danish?” He asked.

“No, no,” Adam said, “I do not understand languages.” The word had needed something extra. “Most of them, lots of them, or the ones I try to know.”

“I am not sure I follow.” Lucas secured the ‘just-in-case’ umbrella beneath his arm pit.

“Languages are just words and words are just letters,” Adam said, motioning in a line with his hand, “It’s something straight forward, like numbers, but when people use words, it becomes really messy.”

Lucas offered a muted noise. 

“I know what okay means. I know the definition of that word, but when people say it, sometimes they draw it out or they make it short,” he explained, “and then it doesn’t mean what it should, it means the opposite sometimes. I don’t understand.”

“Context?” Lucas tilted his head forward.

“I guess so,” his fingers touched the end of his scarf, “and that makes even a first language difficult. But when you learn a second, you have to learn new words that sometimes have new definitions, and then you have to learn if the word can be changed because how someone says it. It’s very frustrating.”

“Are you finding Danish difficult?” Luca asked.

“No,” he frowned, “yes, but, learning things is supposed to be difficult. I just don’t always understand English, and Danish will have the same sorts of problems.”

“The context is more about social.” Lucas dipped his head, having them cross the small unpaved street. “People use tone to communicate.”

Adam’s fingers twitched and the muscle along his lower jaw pulled tight. “It’s layering, or that’s what Carol said.”

“You don’t really like it.” 

“It’s hard to find the meaning,” Adam confessed, “I wish sometimes that people would just use the word as what it means. I don’t like guessing.”

Their voices fell quiet and only the rhythmic steps of their feet filled the space. Lucas pressed his lips together and Adam glanced away, tracing the horizon with his gaze. It felt as if the air was becoming colder. There was supposed to be a chance of rain, and the clouds seemed to echo that sentiment, but one was never sure. The weather resembled to the average person how Adam viewed communication, always present, but mainly estimated guesses.

“Do you feel that talking to someone here is more difficult than America?” Lucas turned to look at Adam, watching his face as reflective emotions rolled across it.

“No, not really,” he said. Eli had commented that living in a new culture always had some winding roads to navigate, but Adam decided it wasn’t the case. “It doesn’t seem to be any harder than back home. Just new words and new ways to say them, or expressing something through them.”

Lucas chuckled again, “You find talking that hard?”

“Exchanging,” Adam corrected. 

“Exchanging,” Lucas echoed, his gaze falling ahead of them. They had not a particular direction and had left the main area of the village behind. There were few people out here and Adam decided that he preferred it that way. Lucas hadn’t mentioned it either. 

“I do like how it sounds,” Adam said.

“What sounds?” 

“How Danish sounds.”

“I see,” Lucas said, voice flat. Adam could not see anything that would help him piece together how Lucas was feeling. There were plenty of options in the forms of amusement, disappointment, annoyance, neutrality, and curiosity. The reference points he’d tried to create, he’d studied, looked at, dissected, were missing. Lucas’s face always smoothed itself out, sometimes offering a starting point.

But Adam found people, even ones whose faces changed like scenery, to be difficult. This was almost impossible. 

And previously, he’d only alerted people when a statement needed to be rectified immediately, pulled back, turned over, and revisited, especially when the person felt the need to retreat. He did not want a troubling statement, misrepresented because of his lack, his vacancy, to be present here. 

“I,” he began, the word sitting between his teeth and the rest trying to crawl back down his throat.

Lucas turned his head, just a little, in his direction. 

“I have s-something,” he said, pressing the words together, hoping maybe with enough force they’d all tumble out and then he could sort them. 

Lucas waited, stride never faltering, still moving forward, long and without purpose. But Adam stopped, and two steps later Lucas did also, turning in his direction. Adam shifted, foot down, then heel up, fingers flat against his legs, fingers curling into pant fabric. His lungs forced an exhale, hitching and short the entire way out.

“I have s-something called Asperger’s,” he said, the ground uneven, then dirt with spattered grass, and then Lucas’s face, smooth and blank as pages before writing, “I c-can’t tell what people are thinking sometimes,” he paused, “a lot of times. I never know what you are thinking. I-I used to assume that what I felt, they f-felt too. Mind B-blindness. But I know to ask now, b-because that’s usually not true.” 

The silence was thick and Adam could feel it settling against him, curling up on his shoulders and his arms. He wanted to pick it up and set it on the ground as one would a naughty kitten, but his fingers wouldn’t be able to find it. Lucas hadn’t said a word, and his lips had not parted in any attempt. Adam believed, for a moment, that his choice was wrong. He should have waited. 

“I wondered,” Lucas said and Adam felt his lung fill with a full, deep breath. “But I wasn’t sure.”

“You wondered?” Adam echoed. 

“I have worked around children,” Lucas said, “I have seen it before.”

“I am not a child,” Adam said, fingernails leaving small burning crescents against his palms.

“I know,” Lucas said, offering a soft smile. 

Adam was left to turn the new information in his mind. Lucas had a suspicion, a wondering, and he wasn’t a stranger. Maybe not a friend to this difference, but he wasn’t completely blind to it. He thought maybe he should say something, a word, a phrase, or a small sentence, but his mind had new information and nothing to give back. It was all take.

Drops were spattered around them, sinking into the grass and leaving darker bulges in the loose dirt. Adam glanced up, where the sky had darkened only a little, having gone from a mellow gray to a moody gray, but not a dark, sullen gray. He blinked, catching a drop in his eye where it is cold and stings just a little. 

Lucas pulled the umbrella from beneath his arm and it opened with a sharp pop, offering the hollow sound of raindrops against stretched nylon. The sound went from inconsistent to more frequent and Lucas stepped towards Adam, cocking the umbrella in his direction. Adam looked at the dark blue of the canopy and then moved to stand beneath. His arm brushed against Lucas’s and when Lucas began to walk, he followed, steps quickening and lessening to find pace. 

They let the rain take up the conversation and walked back the path they had come, huddled under the umbrella together. Adam was not bothered by the gentle brush of their jackets. The edge of his hand ghosted against the rough skin of Lucas’s, mind rolling back to that first day, where he’d followed after Lucas, their hands connected. 

His fingers turned to the side, sliding against worn skin that covered the bones of the man who was a mystery. Their fingers interlocked, hesitant, wondering, but not uncomfortable. He had not thought to bring an umbrella. It did rain in New York and very infrequently in California, but here, his mind had not fallen into the weather preparation pattern quite yet. It would snow in the coming month and while he knew that, it didn’t seem actual to him.

“If you are open to it,” Lucas began and Adam forgot about snow banks and the crunching of it under foot, “I would like if you accepted dinner from me sometime.”

Adam glanced at him. “You cook?”

The answer was a toothy smile and, “Sometimes.”

They would be at a table, across from each other, with whatever Lucas cooked and probably not anywhere near the observatory. 

“Okay,” Adam said, “I could eat dinner.”

Lucas’s smile widened, showing more teeth and tilting at one side of his mouth. “Good.”

Adam’s fingers settled more firmly against Lucas’s. 

 

Eli was sitting at the window seat, head pressed against window panes as he watched the rain roll down the glass. Adam had been charting orbit paths at the table but he was now staring at the table center as his mind wandered away from orbits and to people. Eli pulled his attention away from the window and looked at Adam. 

“I didn’t realize how bored I would be without field research,” he said, “this rain is really a drag.”

Adam leaned back in his chair, pushing the two piles of paper to line up with the open book on his right. “Do you think the snow will be just as hard?”

“Probably, though maybe the skies won’t be cloud covered. I guess I should be asking if it snows as much as it rains,” Eli said and turned around on the window seat to face Adam. “You’ve been absent lately. What are you thinking about?”

“Things,” Adam said, shoulders pushing up into a shrug.

“You’ve been visiting that friend you met in town a lot.” A grin spread over Eli’s face, less lopsided than Lucas’s, more white teeth and knowing. “Carol and I were talking about it and you should introduce us sometime.”

His fingers curled against the table. “Maybe,” he said.

Eli tilted his head. “Don’t tell me he’s shy like you are.”

“Adam’s not actually all that shy,” Carol said, standing in the doorway to the hall. 

Eli touched three fingers to his neck, “Holy shit. You scared me. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“You left the door unlocked,” she said and walked into the room, putting her bag on the table and smiling at Adam. “We are curious though and we’d like to meet him sometime.”

Adam only shrugged, looking at the table once more. Eli and Carol glanced at each other, mirroring frowns. 

“Do you not want us to meet him?” Carol asked. 

Adam couldn’t find the right words. No wasn’t but neither was yes. “Maybe, sometime,” he said, closing his textbook. 

“Is something wrong?” Eli ventured.

“No, it’s fine,” Adam said and looked at him. “I-I just don’t know.” The pulse in his wrist and neck pushed out of his skin. 

“Alright,” Carol said, cutting Eli off before he asked something else. “Anyways, I just wanted to come over and chat. My roommate is doing some sort of exercise routine and I  
cannot stand to listen to more chants of ‘Yes, let’s go, right and to the left’ and more clapping. Some sort of dance exercise thing.” She slumped onto the table, face buried among  
her arms. “Watching her makes me feel out of shape.”

“Maybe you are,” Eli said.

“Okay, that’s coming from the guy who sat down in the middle of the fourth hill last expedition.”

“They were really steep, give me a break,” he said and pushed off the window seat. 

“By the way,” Carol turned her attention to Adam, “Have you filled out any applications yet?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Do you have any choices?” Eli asked. 

“A few.” He frowned. “Did you two fill any out?”

“Yeah,” Carol said. “I have three or four schools in mind. I think I’ll apply to them all and then see where I get in.”

“Is there a preferred program?” Eli leaned against the table. “I have two preferred programs and five schools I decided on. I mean, they’re all good. But there’s two I kind of want to attend more than the others.”

“Mmm, I have one I’d really like to attend,” Carol said, “but I mean, I won’t be picky. The others are great too.”

“Technically, it depends on the focus,” Eli said. “There’s a few areas of research I could go into. But which one do I want the most is the deciding factor.”

“You know, it’s best to have the area of study decided,” Carol said.

“I know, I know, but I guess I’m worried.” Eli ran a hand through his hair. “What happens if I decide on a topic and area of study, then half-way through grad-school I end up hating it?”

“You’ll be a normal human being,” Carol snorted. “It happens to people a lot. I have three areas of study I like. Hating one of them isn’t the end of the world.”

“I wish I had your attitude,” Eli said, ‘but I like to worry, apparently.”

Carol shrugged. “I worried for a while. I don’t know, I have no advice.”

“Well, no one’s going to ask you to write a self-help book.” Eli took the chair across from Carol. “What about you, Adam? No ideas at all? None?”

He shook his head. “This was decided on a whim. I didn’t have plans for anything extended.”

“Being spontaneous isn’t your strong suit, huh?” Carol asked.

“No,” he said.

“Well, the most I can suggest is to just start making a list of programs or places that sound interesting, see which you think you can get into or would like to try, and just  
narrow it down,” Eli said, smoothing a hand over the table, not finding any forgotten crumbs.

“Okay,” Adam said.

Carol’s gaze drifted to the window, where it was still glossy with the movement of rain. “We’re going to be stuck in here for a while. I don’t think the rain is going to let up.”

“We could always study,” Eli said.

“See,” Carol looked at him, “I can imagine Adam suggesting that. But you? Come on.”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to study,” he said, “I just want to seem somewhat responsible.”

“What do you two want to do,” Adam said and they both looked at him, eyebrows drawn up and Carol’s lips quirked back. 

“You don’t want to study?”

“I think we should, but neither of you want to.” His fingers fidgeted and Adam stood up, feeling too large for the chair.

“I suggest we go to the library,” Carol offered.

“Wait, you’re kidding?” Eli frowned. “That sounds way too close to studying.”

“Come on, trust me,” she said and stood up, motioning for Eli to do the same. “We’re not going to study, but our options are limited. The observatory wasn’t built for fun  
outside of astronomy.”

“And sometimes astronomy isn’t fun,” Eli said.

Adam’s expression furrowed. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

Eli rolled his eyes as they headed to the door. “I know you don’t, but your focus is scary.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing Adam doesn’t know where he wants to go,” Carol said, “because if the competition is between us and him, he’s going to win.”

“Jerk,” Eli grinned, but Adam’s shoulder pulled back and his features twisted up. ‘Whoa, whoa, joking, I’m joking.” Eli raised his hands, showing flat palms. 

“He’s joking,” Carol echoed. “You are one of the nicest people, unlike Eli.”

“Low blow, Carol.” Eli shut the door behind them, and Adam shuffled after them, accepting but suspicious.

 

The library had a stronger hum inside of it, as people were gathered in corners with larger groups. The rain had driven everyone inside the buildings (except for those few who wanted to be outside), and many of the groups had given up trying to study, instead filling the rooms with soft sounds of voices.

Carol led the group through the hallways and up to the third floor where archives were kept. There were less people, a few of the present students were slumped over desks or curled up on large chairs asleep. They headed into the archives and book shelves, Carol picking up a random book and flipping it open. She selected a random sentence and read it out loud in Danish. Eli leaned over her shoulder.

“Wait, is that sentence talking about the history of astronomy?” he asked.

“It’s discussing the history of astronomy within Mesoamerica,” Adam said.

“Damn, look at you,” Eli laughed, “Better at Danish than me already.”

“You don’t try,” Carol said.

Eli snatched the book from her hands and put it back. “Be quiet.”

But soon, they were all shuffling around, pulling books off the shelves and test each other’s language efficiency. Adam was much further ahead than either Carol or Eli, but  
Carol was second and Eli couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. The language pop quiz soon devolved into a game of tag-keep away-hide-and-seek between the bookcases. The steps of brisk walking could be heard, not that sleeping students paid any attention. 

Adam and Carol ran into each other around the end of a bookcase. She grabbed onto his arms to steady herself, a gentle, dipping laugh falling from her lips. Adam wore his uneven, awkward smile and they both quieted down to listen for Eli. There was no soft thumps of footsteps and silence was their companion.

Until, “Marco.”

Carol erupted into a sharp, cut off barking laugh which startled Adam, but his own laughter, something more rolling, the up and down of piano keys, soon joined. 

“Polo,” she called and they went in search of Eli, who had given up and walked to the edge of the bookcases. He snorted when he saw them. 

“I heard that stupid laugh,” he told Carol and she swiped his arm.

“Don’t be a butt,” she said. 

“Well, now that we behaved like five-year-old children, what do we do with ourselves?” he asked.

“We could always do some studying,” Adam offered, and there was a shared resigned sigh between Carol and Eli. 

“Well, we could.” Eli wore a rather sheepish expression on his face. “I am kind of behind.”

“You’re always behind. That’s nothing new,” Carol said, leading the way back down the stairs. 

 

Once their books, papers, and folders had been collected, they rendezvoused at the second floor and found that their favorite table was free. It was tucked towards the back, near a window without other tables being too close. And most importantly, there were outlets on the wall, and Eli always brought a power strip so they all could plug their laptops in. 

Adam was seated at the table, surrounded by his stuff and his friend’s. Carol’s were piled one on another, Eli’s were scattered in whatever way he’d dropped them, and Adam’s were lined up neatly, edges pushed to match. The other two had left to grab coffee, and he’d watch them try to out walk each other to the entrance.

He was left to his own thoughts with the company of books and two girls perusing the book shelves nearby. Their voices rose and fell in correlation of their position to him, and when they were only two rows of shelves away, their conversation was much easier to hear.

“It’s an awkward line to cross,” one was saying. “I mean, we’ve only ever been friends. I don’t really know when it started and I can’t tell if he feels the same in return or if nothing changed for him.”

“People like to make it sound easy to go from friends to lovers,” her companion said, “but it’s not. If you’re close friends beforehand, then it’s hard to judge if it’s just your friendship there or if there’s something else.”

The other girl laughed. “Now I’m stuck with the age old dilemma, do I say anything and risk it all or say nothing and maybe regret.”

“Friendship and romance, things that are very similar sometimes.”

Adam’s fingers smoothed the papers next to his arm down. Eli and Carol hadn’t come back yet, and the girl’s voices were fading. He had never had a conversation with Carol or Eli about romance or dating, and they’d never brought it up. They hadn’t even brought up past relationships. Not that he had either. 

New York was left to the memory of loss for him, for both family and romance. He had thought she was lovely from day one, with that forward smile, and confident posture. She had had no trouble with finding words and hers were layered and connected with ease. He’d liked that. 

Sometimes, when Lucas showed his lazy smile, it almost reminded him of Beth, but while there were similarities, in the sense of being comfortable as one’s self, they were different. Lucas displayed less helpful tips on his face as to what he could possibly be feeling, but while Beth had many times stood and watched in a manner that indicated being at a loss, Lucas only seemed to offer a patient sort of interest. From the first meeting, he’d thought Beth was attractive, big smiles and confidence. He hadn’t wanted what he felt  
with Carol. 

But were Eli and Lucas the same?

“You didn’t even open your book,” Eli said, as him and Carol wandered back up. Adam looked at them, cups of coffee steaming resiliently in their hands. Carol held hers with  
both hands.

“I got lost in thought,” he said.

“Yeah? About what?” Carol took her seat, not setting her coffee down. 

“The difference between friends and lovers.” He adjusted his position so he was sitting upright.

Eli raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty heavy thing to think about. What in the world made you think about it?”

He shrugged, “Two girls were talking about it.”

“Eavesdropper, knew you had it in you.” Eli’s face pulled into a grin.

Adam’s shoulders hunched up, pulling his neck to the side. “I didn’t mean to. They weren’t that far away and I ju-“

“Joke,” Eli said, raising his hands, having set his coffee down. “Man, I’m bad with the jokes.”

“They’re bad jokes,” Carol said, finally setting her coffee down. She focused her gaze on Adam. “Did you want to talk about it at all?”

He shook his head and began to open his books. Carol turned a hard, flattened gaze on Eli who once again held his hands up and mouthed “I’m sorry”. She pulled her reading  
glasses out, a mint colored pair with soft designs on the side, and placed them on her nose. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at this seasonal map,” Eli said.

The sound of pages turning and pencils scratching along paper began to mingle with the rain. 

 

In California, Adam had given himself a small lecture that centered around the idea of attempting to be adventurous, and mostly in the area of food. He had some successes and plenty of failures. But it had given him enough experience to at least weigh whether or not a meal or dish was going to be the success or failure. 

On his plate sat what Lucas had said was pork with a side of potatoes and carrots. Straight forward and nothing that couldn’t be identified. This would likely be a success. His diet still consisted a good deal of macaroni and cheese, but Eli had been a large influence on expanding dietary boundaries. 

“It looks good,” Adam told Lucas once the host had seated himself. He paused, scraping his teeth against his lower lip. In Danish, he repeated the sentence, telling him it looked good and he looked forward to tasting it. Carol had made a big point in explaining that one should always tell their host the food looks good, even if it doesn’t. Adam hadn’t quite understood that point and after about ten minutes of discussing why one should lie, when it was very difficult to do so, Carol had dragged her hands down her face  
and said that he just needed to say that, not agree with it. 

Lucas’s slips pushed up into a smile, toothy and pleased, and replied with a thank you. Both picked up their utensils and while Lucas began to cut a slice of pork, Adam made sure that the carrots, potatoes, and pork were all in well-contained piles. Once that was complete, he decided to eat the potatoes first. 

About half-way through his second potato, Lucas had focused his gaze on him and watched, chewing thoughtfully. Mouth clear, he asked, in Danish, if Adam had roommates at the observatory. That was something he couldn’t remember if Adam had mentioned or not, and he probably had.

“One roommate,” Adam answered. “Most everyone gets a roommate.” 

Lucas asked if he liked his roommate. Adam turned over images of Eli sulking at the table, grappling with dinner in the kitchen, and always raising his hands in surrender. A smile perched on his lips. 

“I do,” he said. “I enjoy his company.” And the phrase ‘I have friends’ almost slipped past his lips. 

Lucas then asked where he’d lived previous to coming here and Adam began to assemble the threads he needed to talk about where he’d been. He swallowed a slice of carrot, rolling the handles of his utensils against his palm.

“California,” he said. “And before that New York.” 

Lucas nodded, any questions detained by the meal in his mouth. Adam struggled with the words, but with great determination, explained in Danish that he’d been living in New York, he’d lost his job after graduation (didn’t mention his other two losses, not yet), and then managed to land a job and internship for a limited time in California, and had  
to come the conclusion that he wanted to attend grad-school but had no idea where.

It had been lucky timing that this internship had opened up here. 

Lucas asked if he had to start applying to schools and Adam responded in an affirmative, that he was working on his applications at the moment (kind of) alongside his internship work. 

“You like your intern work?” Lucas offered a break.

Adam nodded. “It’s interesting. More difficult.”

“A challenge,” Lucas echoed.

“Yeah.” 

Adam fiddled with the diminished piles of potatoes and carrots. Ask questions, be interested. This was not a situation where pretending was needed. “Did you live somewhere else?” 

Lucas wore mild surprise. “No,” he said. “I’ve stayed close to home.” 

“Did you ever want to go anywhere?” Adam decided he wasn’t hungry anymore and viewed his plate in an accomplished manner. Only a few scattered potatoes and carrots  
remained, and just one sliver of meat.

“Sometimes,” Lucas said, leaning back, his own plate cleared. “But it never worked out.” He stood up and took both plates, setting them in the kitchen, and returned. “I’m under the idea you wouldn’t like alcohol.”

Adam’s nose wrinkled, sharp and disfavor able. “No.” And there wasn’t anything else to add.

Lucas chuckled, taking a beer for himself and after deliberation and a toss back and forth with Adam, he brought a glass of milk. The conversation moved from table to couch,  
a comfortable spot where Adam could tuck himself together and avoid having to flicker his gaze to Lucas’s face every so often. 

“Were there other places you’d like to see?” Lucas asked, all limbs comfortable in his space.

“Maybe,” Adam said, tracing the lip of the glass. “But new places are strange and hard to breathe in.” 

“But you’ve gone from one country to another.” Lucas leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. They were side by side, the seams of their pant legs barely brushing. The  
beverages had been set aside, remaining in place until they were needed. 

California to Denmark. More than one flight, two different languages, and a landscape he’d never seen. The facts were there, but the moment-to-moment memories were not. “I can’t really remember,” he admitted. 

Lucas patted his leg, and Adam’s senses cut, wrapping themselves around that one motion, skin barely giving under the press of fingers. He turned, posture mimicking Lucas’s and his stomach pushed itself inward. Lucas’s gaze flicked downward. Force pushed him forward, his lips pressing against ones that were not his, they were firm, flat, and beginning to return the motion. 

Breath slipped from his lungs and he managed to get his eyes closed as noses bumped. His balance went too far forward and Adam pulled away, stopping himself before he slid off the couch. Lucas caught his shoulder and they sat there, the movement of swallowing and exhaling now taking place.

Adam glanced at Lucas, using all the tricks he’d taught himself and been told, trying to gauge Lucas’s expression, but Lucas wasn’t looking at him. A grimy, crumpled feeling appeared inside his gut and he started to lean back, but Lucas turned in his direction, a quirked smile on his lips. The crumpling inside of him smoothed out and Adam returned the smile. 

A hand was sliding along his jaw, pulling him forward, steadying him, and he welcomed the lips this time, a return gesture. A set of enamel was beneath his tongue and his body heaved a sigh, and there was the flesh of lip between his own. Lucas’s hand slid from his jaw, down his neck, smoothed over his shoulder, and gently squeezed his arm. 

His lungs burned and he leaned back, tasting the edges of his lips. Lucas pulled himself back, adjusting his glasses, and they sat, knees touching, and drawing in slow breaths. The energy buzzing under his skin wasn’t covered in anxiety, it was something he’d only felt once previously, and it made him want to stand, to move, to crush his mouth against Lucas’s again. 

Instead he said, “I liked that.”

If the directness was uncomfortable, Lucas didn’t say anything, he only offered a toothy smile and replied that he did also in Danish. Adam turned his back to Lucas and settled against his side, feeling an arm adjusting so that it could rest over his shoulders. 

There were no more words prepared, listed, numbered, and ready to be said. That felt right and Adam just let the silence be tied from himself to Lucas. 

When Adam returned home, Eli was propped on the window seat, book in hand. Their gazes met and Adam hung his coat up. The book was shut and Eli turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the seat.  
“Hey,” he said, “you were out late.”  
Adam glanced at his watch. “I was.”  
Eli peered at him, a frown flickering over his features for only a second. “Well, you had your phone. Just be safe, alright?”  
“Okay,” Adam said and he shuffled off to his bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click. He dressed for bed and when the covers were pulled comfortably around him, he laid there and watched the light filter through his curtains and onto his ceiling. Small, heavy pattering of rain against the window filled the room and it was only disturbed by the sound of Eli moving around in the next room, but when Eli’s door shut, he was left with the rain.  
As his mind slowed itself down, letting go of all the knowledge it held onto with desperate hands, there were ghost touches against his lips.


	7. Breathing in the Same Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry this chapter is so late. My 2014 has been... less than positive. I got caught up in family drama that resulted in me telling my father to get out of my life and my being banned from my own grandmother's funeral. I'm also getting over a bad flu that stopped me from working and put rent stress on me. : / It's been fun. This stress affected my writing and ruined my head space and flow.
> 
> I actually split this chapter in half, or at least the outline. It would have been around 12,000 words or so but I wanted you to get something sooner rather than later.
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes as my editing hasn't been up to par. The flow in this chapter isn't great, but I hope this was worth the wait. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me. If you wanna chat or try to keep tabs on my next chapter progress, my tumblr is:
> 
> asha-volca-nova.tumblr.com
> 
> (I love other Lucadam fans, so please feel free to message me!)
> 
> Also, one of my readers did the cutest fan-art, so go take a look. <3
> 
> http://k-mustang.tumblr.com/post/75844857074/i-wanted-to-practive-some-coloring-paiting-i-cant

Eli and Carol took great interest in the field trips, or Carol took great interest and this caused dedication guilt to grow inside of Eli. That resulted in him accompanying her many a time on field trip outings, and then returning with a vow to never again do it. Even Adam recognized the cycle and put the words away, deciding they didn’t need to be shown. 

Adam, himself, viewed the field trips as he did culinary explorations. Interesting, sometimes necessary, but not something he sought out on his own. His own personal studying required few trips, or at least not the ones offered, and they differed from what Carol gravitated towards. 

It had been two days since he’d sat this trip out and Adam found himself seated at the dining room table, hands resting on his legs. Class was the only reason he left the apartment now and there was something inside of him that kept growing more hollow. The weekend meant no classes and isolated time to himself. His books and journals were littered around the apartment and he’d paced that strip from kitchen to bedroom door an uneven number of times. 

His muscles tensed preparing to right that wrong and add one more hand clenched trek to the list, but his phone buzzed on the table top and Adam snatched it up.

“Ha-hello?” His heart shuddered inside of him, rattling his ribcage.

“Goddag, Adam.”

His lips pressed into a smile. “Goddag, Lucas.” 

“Hvordan har De det?” 

“Okay, I guess,” Adam said, “Carol and Eli went on a field trip and I’ve been here for two days.”

“Have you gone out?”

“For class.”

“Only for class?” An image of Lucas’s eyebrows raising flashed in his mind.

“Yes.”

There was silence on the phone, and Adam accepted it, nothing clattering inside of him as it previously caused. “You have studying, yes?”

“Yes,” Adam said.

“Why don’t you come over here and do your studying,” Lucas said.

Adam wondered how Lucas’s voice stayed as firm as it did, there was no sharp stop and starts, no up and down, no shivering like it was cold. It was always perfectly flat, a road that was smooth and never ended. 

“You want me to come study there?” Adam echoed.

“Yes, but only if you want.”

Adam tightened each finger, one by one, on the phone. “Okay. I’ll come there.”

“Wonderful. Farvel, Adam.”

“Farvel, Lucas.”

 

Lucas’s home, though unfamiliar in many ways, was a source of comfort. It wasn’t all that large, though having lived in New York that didn’t bother Adam, but it felt like a home where people lived. There was a quiet presence rolling along the floor and filling the rooms. He stood in the main room where the couch was, clutching his bag that was filled with books and binders. 

Lucas entered after hanging his coat up and paused, gaze settling on Adam. “You can set your stuff down.” And in Danish, he added that Adam should make himself comfortable. He exited the room then, leaving Adam in a position of wondering.

He looked around the room and shuffled over to the couch, setting his bag on the floor besides it. The table would be the best place to study. The sound of nails against the hard floor made him straighten and Adam focused on the sound. It almost sounded like a-

A mottled black and white dog padded from the hallway, setting its tail to wagging when Adam was in its line of sight. Adam jerked back, but when his legs bumped the couch, he stopped. Lucas stepped into the room as Adam remained still, allowing the dog to snuffle along his pant leg. 

“You don’t like dogs?” Lucas asked.

Adam twitched, gaze snapping up to Lucas. “O-oh, no. I like them. I just, uh, I didn’t realize you had a dog.” 

“She was outside last time you visited,” Lucas said, stepping towards Adam and reaching his arm out, angled down.

“No,” Adam said, voice pausing both dog and human. He swallowed twice, slid his tongue along the roof of his mouth. “It’s okay. The dog is okay.” 

Lucas watched him the length of two mellow blinks and then straightened. “Her name is Fanny.”

Adam rubbed his fingers together, then offered a hand to the small, mottled dog. Fanny pressed her nose against his skin, repeating the motion she’d performed on his  
pants. He rubbed her head, noting the coarse coat. “She’s nice,” he said. 

“She’s a fine dog,” Lucas said, gaze wrapped around Adam and the dog still. “She likes you.”

There was a soft curling inside of Adam’s chest at the words and he scratched the bridge of her nose. “Can I study at the table?” he asked.

“Not the couch and coffee table?” 

Adam straightened up and Fanny meandered away from him. “I like tables better.” They were spread out and had a space where things could be arranged with more efficiency. The edges of Lucas’s mouth inched up. 

“Okay,” he said, “You can make yourself comfortable at the table.”

The table had a thicker finish under Adam’s finger tips and the edges were less sharp, more rounded. It was also closer to a wall and Adam stood beside it a moment, eyeing all the edges and chairs. He set his bag down and pulled out the books, binders, and files. It took about five minutes of inching, scooting, and stacking before he sat down. The space to his right felt strangely empty and the wall to his left was the wrong solidity. 

He was left on his own for about an hour, barely aware of the soft sounds of movement from the other room. Lucas entered into the kitchen and began a pot of coffee, shuffling around. Glasses clinked and there was the soft pull of the fridge door and Adam found a glass of milk set besides him. He set his pencil down and glanced at Lucas, who didn’t say a word.

The milk was smooth against his tongue and with it, the thoughts of constellations and orbit patterns and how to find the right direction. The glass stuck to the finish when he set it down. Lucas filled the chair to his right and his gaze flickered over the papers. 

Adam had gotten more done in an hour than he had the last two days on his own. The moving presence in a shared space seemed to stretch and press his focus into something usable. 

“This all looks very complicated,” Lucas said.

“I guess.” Adam leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the table, index finger extended to keep a soft connection with the glass of milk. 

“It makes sense to you,” Lucas said, moving to get a cup of coffee.

“Yes.” It was breathing, it was daylight appearing at the right time, rain falling when the ground needed it. “It does make sense to me.”

Lucas sat back down and let the silence press itself into the shapes between them. Adam allowed himself half the glass of milk and then picked up his pencil, dumping the boxes of figures and names inside his head. Lucas remained at the table for the length of a savored cup of coffee, watching the way Adam’s hand traced over diagrams, straightened out lists, proposed theoretical equations on paper. 

At some point, Adam paused to finish the glass of milk and the spot to his right was empty. Footsteps were heard in the hallway and a clicking of nails, Fanny, following behind them. 

When the pencil was set down with a certainty, Adam found that the kitchen was still all his own. The clock told him it was almost 7 pm and he had been sitting at the table for almost four hours, maybe four and a half. He scooted all the items into the appropriate piles and stood up. 

Lucas was seated on the couch, book in hand, and dog at feet. 

Adam hovered in the doorway, counting his fingers with twitches. The nervous energy didn’t escape Lucas’s attention and the book was settled onto the coffee table, motioning for Adam to come over. 

He padded over, careful to step over the dog and sat beside Lucas. Neither said a word at first and the finger twitching returned. Lucas settled a hand over Adam’s, stilling his fingers. Lucas’s hands were warm, covering his own with the right amount of pressure. A soft breath slipped through his lips and he turned his gaze to Lucas, who in return, offered a slanted smile.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Adam gave an uneven nod. Lucas squeezed his fingers, let go, and stood up. He watched him move around the coffee table. Fanny remained next to the couch, mirroring Adam’s gaze on Lucas.

“I’ll make us dinner then,” he said.

Adam moved off the couch and followed behind him. “Can I help at all?” The room would be too empty, it would be the room at home.

“If you want.”

Adam smiled in response.

 

Dinner was a simple affair, different from the affair that Eli performed, but nothing that Adam felt unsure about. It was easy to follow Lucas’s instruction, learning new words in Danish along the way, and also learning a thing or two about Danish food. These he could show to Carol later.

He traded this information for things he knew, things like nebulas and star birth and planetary cycles. At points, there would be a frown on Lucas’s face, but it appeared and disappeared instantly, and when Adam stopped speaking at one, his own expression mirroring a frown, lining up what he knew about facial communication, Lucas had turned to him and offered a smile. He’d explained that Adam knew so much and he barely knew anything about the topic. 

Adam had asked if he should stop talking and before the sentence could be ended, Lucas had told him no, he wanted him to talk. He just wanted to try and keep up. Adam made a decision then that he’d try and stick to one topic at a time. And he watched for the flickering frowns. 

They sat at the table, all of Adam’s books pushed to the other end. Adam was in the same chair as he was previously and Lucas had the spot where Eli usually sat at tables. The first few bits were savored in the quiet, and Lucas was the one to break it.

“When do your friends come back?” he asked.

“In three days,” Adam said. “They left two days ago.”

“You did not go?”

Adam balanced the fork across his index finger. “No. There was no need.”

“You could have gone to just go,” Lucas said, taking another bite and letting the words curl between them. Adam’s brow creased and the skin across his nose and between his  
eyes crumpled in twitching movements. 

“No,” he said, though the word was drawn out softly. 

Lucas shrugged, gaze falling onto the books. “You do a lot of studying.”

“It’s the reason I came here.”

A pressure pushed itself up inside of Adam, sliding around his ribcage, and it made him remember. “Thank you,” he said, then motion with his head to the plate, “for dinner.”

“Any time,” Lucas said, offering a crooked smile and raising his fork once more.

 

A sense of pride was uncovered for Adam as he helped Lucas wash the dishes. He took care in soaping each plate, each utensil, and glass. He scrubbed the surfaces in multiple passes, causing Lucas to wait on him, towel thrown over his shoulder and amusement etched into the lines of his face. There would be no doubt they were clean. Eli had little patience for doing the dishes that slow. 

After, Lucas informed him (in Danish, he still had to get some practice) that he was going to take Fanny for a quick walk. Adam responded with a nod and settled himself back in his chair with his books lined up in front of him. 

Lucas’s house was quiet, outside of the soft noises most houses breathed. His mind could stretch, could fill the corners as it did back at the apartment when he studied. He could close his eyes and trace with his voice the connections between stars and the pathways that were invisible. 

A door opened and closed. The soft scrape of nails against hard floor found its way to Adam in the kitchen. He didn’t close his books though. He wanted to finish his last chart. Lucas left him alone, movement apparent from the next room over, until it stopped. His pencil continued to move, sketching a mirror pathway with few diversions from the original chart.

 

He was being roused. There was a hand on shoulder, squeezing gently, and a voice saying his name with that smooth twist and beckoning. Adam raised his head and focused a rather stiff, tired gaze on Lucas.

“I fell asleep,” he said.

“It is very late,” Lucas told him, hand moving from his shoulder to give a similar, gentle squeeze to the back of his neck. “Too late to go home.”

Adam made a noise and yawned, half-tempted to lower his head back to the table. But Lucas was helping him scoot the chair back. He was being pulled up and he allowed the firm grip to guide him away from the table, out of the kitchen, around the dog that waited near their legs patiently. 

The light dimmed and he was being pushed back onto a bed. His hands slid down warm, sleeved forearms and dropped onto the bed, smoothing over material that had few rough spots. The edges of his eyelids burned, trying to stay closed. 

When his legs were lifted onto the bed, Adam half raised a hand, saying, “No, shoes are dirty”. There was silence and no movement for a second or two, but then hands were pulling his shoes off and he settled down. Blankets were tucked around him and as his consciousness tipped off, sliding into calm, he felt a gentle kiss against his temple. 

The last sound was that of footsteps and the shushing of a dogs soft whining. 

 

There was a gentle hum in the space around him, crawling over him, and between the covers. Adam cracked his eyes open, yawning softly. The bedding felt heavier than normal, little balls of lint scattered over the fabric. He lifted his head, noting that he wasn’t in the apartment. He was somewhere else, Lucas’s home, he recalled. 

He sat himself up, noting the lack of sun inching along the floor and the bed. Lucas had curtains that achieved their job. He pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed. There was no sign of the other man and he went in search of him.

The morning space Adam felt uneasy about. The floor creaked in a sharper manner and less frequent. Shadows fell in different shapes, longer in places, shorter in others, and the shading lessened and deepened in ways he didn’t expect. Lucas was in the kitchen, coffee already brewed and breakfast set on the table. He glanced up. 

“God morgen, Adam.” It was paired with a toothy smile and a nod to the food. “Hungry?”

Adam looked at Lucas for a moment, then at the food. He was tilted between jerking his shoulders and pacing, needing to see, to touch things, or to sit and eat. He was hungry, but he was also something. He’d felt it when he first moved into the Institute’s apartment. 

“I…” He curled his fingers and squeezed the fingernails against his palm.

“You can take a shower first,” Lucas offered.

The balance inside of him began to tilt more and he shook his head. Adam took the seat he’d sat in previously and pulled himself in tighter, fitting to the form of the chair with no edges hanging over. Lucas observed him and set a plate in front of him. 

Breakfast was had in silence, but the type that Adam could hold without feeling the itch. Lucas glanced at him periodically, but most of his attention seemed to be turned inward, more often than not, looking off to the side somewhere. When his plate felt empty in a satisfactory manner, Adam set his silverware down. The sliding, the tilt, was more balanced and he looked at Lucas. 

“I’d like a shower,” he said.

Lucas picked up the plates and set them in the sink. “Alright,” he said.

Adam tagged after back down the hallway and to the bathroom. Lucas retrieved an extra towel for him and let him be. It took the water a few minutes to warm up and Adam stared at the unfamiliar tiles, the cracks in all the wrong places. He pursed his lips.

The problem, he discovered, once the water was shut off and the extra towel firmly around his waist, was clothing. His clothes were dirty. He didn’t want to wear something with wrinkles in places there shouldn’t be. He stared at his clothes, folded neatly on the counter, and touched the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth. He picked the clothing up and meandered out of the bathroom. 

It took Lucas a minute or two to notice Adam standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and holding his outfit from yesterday. He offered a smile, “Good shower?”

“My clothes are dirty,” Adam said. 

A flicker crossed Lucas’s face. “Would you like to borrow mine in the mean time?”

“But they’re not mine,” Adam said. 

“No, they are not. But you can wear them for now.” 

“They’re not mine.” The last word is pushed, shoved into the open space. 

Lucas was facing him now, watching. Adam had drawn his arms against his sides and ribcage, shoulders ridged, and muscles tensed. His fingers were pressed harshly against the fabric of his clothes.

“You could wear yours,” Lucas suggested. “They’re probably not that dirty.”

“But they are.” Adam felt the air in his lungs thinning. “I can’t wear them. And yours aren’t mine.” 

Adam felt himself becoming smaller in the doorway and Lucas only observed him, gaze straying to the clothes in his hand. Adam didn’t want to stay in the towel, it was too cold to do that. But his skin crawled, shuddered, at the image of his clothes being worn against it once more. 

Lucas walked over to him, fingers resting over Adam’s and gently prying them off the clothes. “Okay,” he said, voice lowering to something gentle, “how about we wash your clothes and while they wash you wear mine, but only until then.”

“They’re not mine thou-”

“No, they’re not. But they’re mine, and you’re okay with me.”

Adam relinquished his clothing and with a jittery motion, he nodded. Lucas squeezed his fingers gently and took the clothes away from. He dug around in his closet and laid something that wouldn’t fit too awkwardly on the bed. He left with Adam’s clothing, allowing him to inspect his temporary outfit. Just a casual shirt and pants. 

He inspected both articles for a minute or two, then slipped them on. He paced around, pulling at the sleeves, smoothing the pants down, and swallowing repeatedly. The bend at the knees was looser and the hem was half an inch too low. The sleeves brushed the middle of his fingers instead of just below his wrist. 

Lucas had put the clothes to wash and Adam hovered nearby, looking ruffled. When he turned to take in the sight of Adam, limbs pulled tight and jaw shifting, neck muscles jerking periodically, he sighed softly and moved to stand in his space, sliding his arms around Adam. 

Adam tensed up, but slowly relaxed each muscle. Lucas smelled like the clothes he wore. He tilted his head upwards, bumping his nose against Lucas’s chin. The other man glanced down, pulled his lips into a toothy grin, and dipped his head, pressing their lips together. 

Adam leaned up, rolling his weight onto the balls of his feet. Lucas’s hand fitted itself to his jaw and the kiss began to slide past the surface, teeth being revealed, saliva beginning to mingle. His focus was pulled, gently twisted, and made to fit between him and Lucas. Thoughts were put to the side and his mind only considered how organic Lucas was under his fingers and against his mouth. The give of rough, dry lips. The solidness of slick teeth. The fluid movement of wet muscle. 

A long, slow breath was released when they parted and Adam, inhaled, and exhaled once more. But his hands, having moved to rest upon Lucas’s arm and chest, remained there. He felt the gentle swipe of thumb across his cheek and everything that had been sliding was now casually resting inside of him. 

Adam stood in his hold, feeling the time tick inside of him, until he finally said, “I should probably go back to the institute.” The words lacked decision.

Lucas tilted his head, smoothing Adam’s jaw one last time before he let go. “If you want,” he said, “you’re welcome to stay here until your friends return.”

“That would be rude,” he said, though the words felt passed down.

“No, I invited you.”

Adam glanced around, feeling the tremors in his muscles. “It would be okay for me to stay here?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you can just borrow clothes,” he paused, “ones you feel comfortable in.”

This space was foreign, extended halls, closer walls. But Lucas walked in this space. The shirt sleeves were thin beneath his touch, but it looked like Lucas. Adam rattled a nod off to him.

“Yes?” Lucas asked, dipping his head to search Adam’s face.

“Yes,” Adam said. 

“Okay,” Lucas said, “I have work for a little bit today. Can you stay with Fanny?”

Adam’s expression frumpled. “… She’s fine without me. You leave her alon-“

“Because I have to,” Lucas said, “but she prefers company.”

He wetted his lips and nodded again.

“Okay, you can dry your clothes how you want. I left lunch in the fridge,” Lucas told him. “The house is yours to do as you please,” Adam mirrored his earlier expression, “or as you don’t please.”

“I… I’ll be okay,” Adam assured, though the recipient was unclear.

“I know,” Lucas said, “make sure Fanny is okay.” 

Adam’s throat tightened as Lucas leaned forward and there was a brush of lips against his forehead. 

 

When Lucas was gone, and Adam was left sitting at the table where his books had remained overnight, he tried to ask each muscle to relax. For the next three minutes he did his best to relax and when everything felt less tight, he leaned forward and opened his books. 

Time passed in terms of bullet points and equations. He wouldn’t have stopped, his pencil sliding from one thing to the next, but there was a distinct voice vying for his attention. Adam jerked his gaze down at Fanny, who was sitting next to his chair and watching him with an expectant look. 

“I don’t know what you require,” Adam said, pulling his hands away from his papers and books. “Do you need food? I don’t know if I was supposed to give you food.”

Fanny backed up when he stood, the tip of her tail bobbing from side to side. He stretched his arms, back, and then neck. It was past lunch time. 

Once the problem of lunch had been solved, and failed attempts at seeing what Fanny required (it appeared just Adam following her around was the answer), he set about hanging his clothes up. They were clean and seeing them sent a prickle along his skin. It took a few tries before he hung them up in what appeared to be a designated spot. 

Instead of going straight back to his books, Adam found himself following Fanny around once more, which seemed to delight her. Objects were carefully inspected by fingers and things were softly tapped as he investigated the house on his own. It wasn’t half as unnerving as before. He was prepared for the extra steps in the hall and the narrower feel. 

Adam didn’t return to the table for another hour, the time disappearing, and when he had settled down, it felt as if only a hand toss of minutes had passed when the front door opened and the walls were filled with footsteps. Adam glanced up when Lucas walked into the kitchen, and set a brown paper bag on the counter then looked at him.

“Were you okay here with Fanny?” he asked.

The dog in question was lying next to Adam’s chair, wagging the tip of her tail. Adam nodded, leaning back in his chair. “We were fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Lucas asked, beginning to unpack the bag.

Adam touched the tips of his fingers to his stomach. It felt as if he’d eaten lunch not too long ago, but the hollow scoop inside of his stomach was the tell-tale sign that it had been a few hours. “Yeah, I am,” he told Lucas.

The books were abandoned with more ease and dinner was a very similar affair to the previous night. They sat in the spots previously occupied and Adam, who had earlier in the day, prepared questions for Lucas, tried to keep the conversation centered on the other man. Lucas’s face held a grin that tilted at the side, and when he asked about one of the books on the table, Adam lost the list of questions in his mind. 

 

The couch was comfortable and Adam stretched his legs out. There was no need to feel tucked up. The cushions dipped as Lucas joined him and Fanny had wandered elsewhere. The clothes felt better now, he knew what to expect of the fabric against his skin. 

The windows were darkened with dusk and Adam felt wisps of sleepiness crawling along his arms and neck. Lucas followed his gaze to the window and then returned it to the side of Adam’s face.

“Are you sure it’s okay to stay here?” Adam asked. 

“I don’t mind,” Lucas said.

“… this is your area though,” Adam said, turning his head.

“And you’re allowed in it. You stayed here last night.”

Adam pursed his lips, fingers fiddling with the fabric of the cushion beneath him, and his legs beginning to pull back from their out-stretched position. “That’s okay?”

Lucas gave his toothy-smile. “Ja.”

“Okay.” Adam’s voice was low, soft like the click of dog paws against the floor.

His hand wandered along the pulled fabric of the couch to brush against Lucas’s leg, finger tips taking in the smooth, thick material. It was comforting to have a presence besides him, and frequently, he enjoyed when Carol and Eli studied with him. The steady hum of another human beings presence was strangely calming in a silent context.

But the brand and make of Lucas’s presence and comfort was something different, growing in a row at least three down from the type that Carol and Eli provided. Sometimes he just wanted to be present in it, sharing some invisible connection, but other times, that connection, usually light as the reflecting spider strings, pulled tight like fishing line. The desire was awkward to hold, slipping from wherever it was placed. Adam wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Lucas back and demand that he help fix this pushing motion inside of him or just dig his fingers into Lucas’s skin and find a way to become part of him.

The fingers that had remained on Lucas’s thigh tightened and he turned his gaze upwards, catching the blank expression rolled out on his face. Adam scooted closer, heart beat sharpening, and in response Lucas’s head dipped. Adam’s lips found his with ease, the pattern familiar to Adam now. Soft pressure, skin smoothing against one another, and then the pressure became firm, skin giving under the contact, mouth turning a smidge. 

He moved closer, feeling the flick of tongue against his lips and granted the permission that he somehow knew was needed. His mouth was accommodating for Lucas, pliant and curious. When Lucas drew back, Adam followed after him, returning the favor. Lucas stroked Adam’s jaw and down his neck, allowing his own mouth to be understood, to be traced. 

They broke apart, two forces backing up, and the air between them was filled with unsteady breathing. Adam’s gaze was flicking over Lucas’s face, finding only subtle twists of desires, or what he assumed to be so (or what he hoped to be so). Their gazes connected and Adam’s eyes threatened to flutter closed but the thread held him in place and he only blinked quickly, shoulders shivering. 

Lucas was moving then, turning to Adam as his weight was shifted to be on the couch, one knee braced against the cushions and the other leg was against the floor, but not for long. Adam let himself be pushed backwards, shirt catching the fabric of the couch. Lucas was over him, mouths pulled together. There was teeth in the kiss and Adam liked the smooth feel of them under his tongue, no resistance as there was when their tongues brushed past each other. 

He lifted his hands, fingers pulsing under the skin, and wanting to know. There was warmth under Lucas’s shirt. Adam smoothed his hands down from the shoulder, sliding across sides that were covered in soft skin, and onto Lucas’ back. There was another break, breath now drifting across their faces, and Adam could feel the layer of saliva over his lips. He pressed up and brushed his nose against Lucas’s, then against his jaw. 

The hand was back, the thumb stroking his jaw once more. The fingers splayed as they moved down his neck, dragging pads and nails along the exposed skin. Adam closed his eyes as a small, breathless noise fell from his lips. Lucas placed his lips against his neck and there was a soft inhale. The motion was repeated, lips against skin, and the intake of flesh that was warming up. 

Adam’s hands felt the night chill, though the fire place wasn’t far from them. His hands shifted from their resting place on Lucas’s back and pushing through the curled hair on his chest, fingers tightening in it and releasing. He caught the hem of his shirt.

“Shirt?” His voice was a shape that didn’t fit. 

Lucas pulled back and looked at him, lips pressing together with the ends tipped upwards. He caught the edge of his shirt and pulled it off, laying it over the back of the couch. He was heavier than Adam, built in a manner that suggest firm. He was not slim, with shapely hands, and fingernails that grew over the tips of his fingers. 

Hands (with rough pads) that were currently pulling his shirt up. Adam moved onto his elbows and helped ease it off. The air was cold, his skin goose-bumping. Hands were stroking down his chest and onto his sides, soothing the chilled skin. The sensation had nothing prior to relate to, but no threads pulled tight inside of him. Lucas was leaning over him again, lips against his, and coaxing entrance. 

He sighed into the kiss, feeling his shoulders relax as Lucas’s tongue swiped along his own. There was saliva on the sides of his mouth and he didn’t want to stop and wipe it off. Adam found a pleasant motion in smoothing his hands up and downs Lucas’s chest, rubbing through the hair on his chest. 

Lucas shifted his weight towards the back of the couch and Adam felt a hand pressing against his crotch. Something sudden and warm rolled through his stomach, pulling back from the kiss to gasp. The structure was gone, the charts of what A means to B now scattered, and all he could manage was to press back into that hand. That hand that gripped firmly, then released, and began a downward motion. 

Adam closed his eyes tightly, all images faded, only sensation crawling through his skin and around his skull. Lips were on his neck, pulling the skin gently, and he whined, a light sound. His own fingers tightened in chest hair beneath them and one thought formed, louder than the rest, muddling gone from it. With shaking movements, his hands slid down the plane of flesh above him, muscle wrapped in soft skin, and onto the sinking and rising stomach. 

When his hands reached the hemline, he paused, pulling at the fabric then tracing the button. Lucas halted, leaning back to skim his gaze over Adam’s face, who had to blink a few times before he could attempt to focus on Lucas. 

Lucas leaned down, offering a gentle kiss, than sat back. Adam was lifted forward by a hand around his arm and Lucas slide his other arm under Adam’s back, pulling him up as he himself moved backwards. Adam let himself be shifted until he was resting in Lucas’s lap, knees resting on either side of the man’s hips. 

His face crumpled with the creases of confusion but Lucas kissed him, catching his lower lip towards the end. The hands that had been unfamiliar, but were now welcome, worked his pants open and his breath hitched at the first touch. Adam’s hands couldn’t find a place to stay, a place that felt right. Lucas’s skin was warm under his touch, a few patches sticky with the oncoming perspiration of bodies in close proximity and heated activity. The skin on Lucas’s shoulders gave gently under Adam’s grip. 

Lucas made a soothing noise, something that was flat inside of his throat, and stroked the entire length. Adam jerked in his lap, stomach fluttering. His body was beginning to sweat, stuck between internal heat and the cool air. He rested his forehead against a broad shoulder, hips twitching as Lucas gave a few more strokes, then released. The sound of a zipper being undone roused Adam. His eyes focused as Lucas revealed his own length, gaze taking in the strokes that Lucas gave himself. 

Adam straightened his posture just a little as Lucas brought his hand up to his mouth and began to wet his fingers. He tilted his head, eyebrows pulling down, and Lucas smiled in response. He offered his hand to Adam, who hesitantly took a finger, then two into his mouth. There was a movement, Lucas’s throat swallowing, and he pulled his hand away from Adam. The arm wrapped around Adam’s back tightened, drawing him closer. 

The response to his hand, now wet with saliva, wrapping around both himself and Lucas was a drawn moan and to squirm. The pace began slow, but it was steady, and Adam couldn’t decide what to do with himself. He shifted in Lucas’ hold, hands moving from shoulders, to arms, to chest, and back to shoulders. His mouth was cracked open to let through gentle whimpers and gasps. Lucas’s jaw tightened in response. 

He pressed back against the arm holding him, struggling with wanting to thrust up into hand wrapped securely around them. The chill from the air was gone, and he was left with sweat, sticky skin, and heat that dripped through every nerve. Finally, he let one of his hands cover Lucas’, fingers tightening over the other man’s fingers. Lucas paused for only a moment to gather Adam’s hand with his, and the hardened flesh beneath Adam’s hand flattened anymore thoughts that tried to line themselves up. 

Adam could not remember the beginning of the end, but his body tightened, fingers squeezing as climax pulled itself through his body. He could hear the harsh pants from Lucas’s own mouth and the way his chest rose with shudders, and exhaled with raggedy sounds. He only came back to himself when Lucas was shifting them, rubbing a hand down Adam’s back as they relaxed onto the couch. 

His breathing was shallow, the air settling onto his sticky skin. A press of lips against his temple. He turned his head to look at Lucas, catching the soft light on his face. 

“I liked that,” he said and Lucas laughed, bumping his nose against his jaw.

“That’s good,” he said.

Adam felt a yawn clawing its way up his throat. “I’m tired now, though.”

“You can sleep in the bed,” Lucas offered. 

“Where will you sleep?” Adam was focused on him now.

“The couch. I slept there last night,” he said.

Adam expression faltered, smoothing into worried planes. “But the bed is big.”

Now Lucas frowned.

Adam motioned between them. “Big enough for both of us.”

“You want to share a bed?”

Adam paused. “Yes.”

Lucas pressed his face against Adam’s neck, sighed softly, and sat up. “Bed it is,” he said. Adam moved to follow but found himself lifted off the couch and being carried down the hall. He clung onto Lucas, glancing behind them to find Fanny following. 

He was left on the bed, eyes shutting under the pull of sleep. The mattress dipped under added weight and there was the gentle press of Lucas cleaning him up. A wet nose pressed against his ear followed by a soft “Nej, Fanny” and the nose disappeared. Adam allowed himself to be roused long enough to get his pants off and under the covers. The  
darkness across his eyelids deepened with the light being turned off and the bed once more gave under added weight. 

Adam was pulled across the worn sheets to lay back again warm skin and course hair. He let his body lean back as an arm was tucked across his side.  
The sound of breathing against his neck and ear almost drowned out the beginning of rain on the roof.


	8. You and I Have Words To Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry once more for it taking a month to update. I'm just going to accept I take forever to write. But this chapter is 10,000 words and 23 pages, so... it's a big one. I hope you enjoy it. To everyone who wonders between updates, I WILL finish this story even if it takes time. No fretting!
> 
> I am normally a short story writer, so I honestly apologize for the quality of this beast. I had planned it to ONLY be 30,000 words with 3000 words per chapter, and well... that's far out the window now. I have very little experience with coherent long works, so please bear with me! I absolutely appreciate you all and all your kinds comments. Thank you all SO MUCH for all the kind, nice things you said last chapter. 
> 
> Tumblr: Asha-volca-nova.tumblr.com

The morning light pressed itself into the curtains, crawled across the covers, and Adam found he wasn’t alone. There was a heavy weight in the bed beside him and the dip had caused him to slide towards the weight at some point. His body was leaning against Lucas’s, his breath warm on his neck. 

Adam shifted under the arm over his side, rising onto an elbow. His tongue wetted dry lips and he craned his neck to look at Lucas who was still asleep, sides rising and falling, lips parted. He turned, bending to press his nose against Lucas’s jaw, rubbing it upwards, to the spot where jaw and ear met. 

Lucas smelled a taste of sweat and something gentle, organic. He sighed, one eye cracking open to look at Adam. “God morgen,” he said, voice rough and crumpled with sleep.

“Hello,” Adam said. 

Lucas stretched beside him and Adam leaned back to give him room, rubbing the spot where Lucas’s arm had been, warmth now slipping away. The stretch now finished, Lucas remained on his back, staring up at the ceiling, then turned his head to look at Adam, who in turn held his gaze as best he could.

When his gaze dropped, there was a low chuckle and Lucas was moving, grabbing Adam and pushing him onto his back. Adam’s hands found Lucas’s back and his soft, short noise was devoured by lips prying open his own. The kiss was accepted with relaxed posture, head tilting back, fixing the angle for them both. 

They remained in their spots, Adam stretched beneath Lucas, fingertips pressing into the muscles of the shoulders above and Lucas looking down at him, brushing one more kiss against his lips. He pulled away, getting out of bed. 

“Breakfast?” he asked, pulling a shirt on.

“Morgenmad,” Adam said as he scooted to the edge of the bed, legs dangling over.

Lucas’s lips twitched upwards. “Very smart.”

Adam returned the smile, posture straightening. Lucas disappeared out of the bedroom and he was left with rumpled sheets and the case of a misplaced phone. His lips formed a yawn and the floor was chilled under his feet. He lined the covers up, smoothed the wrinkles out, and placed the pillows back in their spots. His attention drifted towards the window where a bubble of warmth was and light pressed against the curtains. 

He slipped two fingers between the fabric and peered out. The trees were a dull green, bunched together and he could see Fanny bobbing around the area, through the grass. He turned away and shuffled around, discovering his shirt to be lost.

 

Down stairs, Lucas was setting coffee to brew and Adam paused in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I can’t find my shirt,” Adam said. 

“You don-” 

“I can’t find it,” he repeated, voice stiffening, shoulders twitching backwards.

Lucas set breakfast aside and walked towards Adam, squeezing his arm gently as he passed. Adam tagged along back into the sitting room. Lucas held the shirt up from where it fallen behind the couch. Adam leaned over the couch, fingers connecting with the shirt, and Lucas grabbed his wrist, pulling gently. 

He tumbled onto the cushions, gaze straying up, only to find Lucas mere inches from his mouth. Adam closed his eyes and the distance, giving a short chase when Lucas began to straighten up. A hand fitted itself to his jaw and they remained there, close, connected, until there was mutual separation. Adam slid his shirt on and followed him back to the kitchen where the smell of coffee permeated the air, settling on all the cream colored counter tops. He’d memorized the scruff marks and where the paint had started to peel. 

They sat down when Lucas was done and they ate in silence that curled between them, through their fingers, becoming another layer of skin. Adam closed his eyes at some point and laid in that silence, wanting to tuck it so far inside himself he’d never get rid of it. 

It was Saturday and Lucas didn’t need to leave and Adam’s books looked less interesting than they had the previous day. 

Adam asked about his clothes and a shower after breakfast and Lucas replied in non-committal Danish until Adam threw a couch pillow in his direction. With a smile touching the corners of his mouth, Lucas retrieved Adam’s washed clothes. 

 

Lucas suggested taking Fanny on a walk, and Adam’s mind wandered back to their first encounters, and something inside him pushed to agree, so he did. They donned their jackets and grabbed the leash, calling for Fanny. There was no sign of her and they searched the halls, the sitting room, the bedroom, until Adam discovered her sitting by the front door. 

The leash was held loosely in Lucas’s grip as they walked down the pathway that led away from the porch. There was a nip in the air, burning lightly across Adam’s cheeks and attempted to wriggle beneath his coat. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling the cuffs of his coat down.

His gaze strayed to Fanny, two steps ahead of them and her tail waving from side to side. 

“How do you say dog in Danish?” he asked.

“Fanny er en hund,” Lucas replied, focus ahead of them. 

Adam’s expression crumpled. “Hund?”

Lucas glanced at him, waiting, silent.

He took a deep breath, “Fanny er en hund.”

The dog paused every time her name was said, looking at them expectantly. Lucas stopped and Adam stumbled to a stop three steps ahead. Lucas took his hand and placed the leash in it, and he looked from leash to the other man, stuck between solid decision and wavering confusion. His fingers tightened around the material and Fanny stared at him. 

They started walking again, and Lucas began to ask him questions in Danish. Adam switched between repeating answers and questions, trying to position his tongue how he imagined Lucas did when the words came from him. He formed them with ease, accent molded between lips and rolled off his tongue. Adam wanted to stop, to take Lucas’s face between his hands, and devour the words into himself, taste them as they were being formed.

Instead he continued walking forward, with both dog and man beside him. 

“When are your friends back?” Lucas asked.

“Tomorrow,” Adam told him, noting that since it was the weekend, more people were out. They weren’t too close to the village, still on the outskirts where Lucas lived, but that didn’t mean much as everything was for the most part within walking distance. 

“Would you like to go back tonight?” Lucas slipped his hands into his pockets.

Adam’s fingers tightened briefly on the leash, gaze falling on the way Fanny’s tail wagged, how she led them fearlessly forward. He shook his head, “No.”

Silence drifted. 

“Would you like to stay one more night?” Lucas turned his face partially in Adam’s direction.

“I, I… yeah,” Adam said, “if that’s okay.”

Carols voice was soft in the base of his mind, don’t over stay a welcome, people don’t like it. Lucas was stretching a hand out though, with the offer, and it was up to him if he’d take it or not. Next time, though, next time he would bring more clothes. No surprises.

“Ja,” Lucas said and Adam turned his focus in the opposite direction, hiding the tipped up corners of his mouth.

 

The weather was turning gray when they return, clouds laying upon one another and stretching out till blue sky is gone. The chill was greater, adding to the burn against Adam’s cheeks. Him and Fanny stepped into the house and Lucas stepped in after them, shutting the door.

Once the leash was off, Fanny licked Adam’s hand and padded off down the hallway. Adam watched her go, then turned to Lucas, only to be greeted by hands cupping his jaw and lips against his, he felt the tongue asking permission and opened his mouth. He rested his hands against Lucas’s sides, eyes sliding closed. 

Lucas broke the kiss first, but his hands remained where they were, cradling Adam’s face in a gentleness that Adam had come to associate with the man. He opened his eyes and turned his gaze upwards, studying the lines, the dips, on Lucas’s face. The other man’s face filled his vision as Lucas leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. 

Adam was left with one last soft kiss against the side of his nose, and Lucas was walking away, following the same path as Fanny. He stood there, one breath, two breaths, then three, and followed after both of them. 

He found Lucas in the kitchen, cleaning their dishes from the morning. His presence hovered in the doorway, observing the way Lucas worked in rhythm, his back shifting with each movement, and his mind crawled back to the previous night, with heated touches and wet lips. He swallowed.

“Can I help?” he asked, then took a step forward. “Kan jeg hjaelpe dig?”

Lucas stepped to the side, making room for Adam to come and stand beside him. Words were kept inside, placed securely in throats and ribcages. He tried to mimic Lucas’s rhythm, and while he’d mirror for a beat or two, it would be lost the next moment. 

Adam dried the last bowl and placed it in the cabinet Lucas had instructed him too. Fanny was nowhere to be seen, probably outside, and he found his gaze being drawn back to the man sharing his space. Lucas was drying his hands, seemingly lost inside whatever his mind was turning over. His expression, hollow and unfocused, was turned towards the wall. 

He’d memorized the words, having heard students in the library discussing them, trying them out, and then the first time he’d looked up the meaning, discarding the phrase due to practicality. He hadn’t seen a need for it, but now, with Lucas right beside him, and the memory of their shared night hovering, he wanted to say them, he wanted what they meant. 

Adam licked his lips, filled his lungs, let the breath go, then repeated the motion. His stance turned to Lucas and he said the words in a voice that couldn’t be heard. And the second time, his voice was forced, but steady, with the words, “Vil du dyrke sex?” 

Lucas’s body stiffened and he froze, eyes widening enough that Adam could see it. Anxiety wormed in between his ribs, oily, greasy, and unsettling his stomach. Being wrong was a frequent experience. 

But the other man was turning to look at him, eyes flicking over Adam’s face, which held steady in spite of the rolling inside of him. 

“You want…” His voice flickered out at the end. 

“Ja,” Adam said. 

Their gazes held for something shy of two minutes and Adam was looking away, trying to find the spot on the wall that had captured Lucas’s attention. There are footsteps and his face is being turned back to Lucas, allowing the hard kiss and pressing into it, asking for more, lips molded onto the other man’s.

“Okay,” Lucas breathed, cheek against Adam’s. “Okay.”

He had no plan for the space after the word, it was colored in haze with no discernable shape. But Lucas pressed a hand to his back and was guiding him out of the kitchen, towards the hall that led to the bedroom. Half-way, Adam’s feet were swept up and he found himself being carried by Lucas, and before a complaint could be staged, he was silenced by a kiss. 

Something organic, with deep drops and sharp twists, was crawling up into his stomach, winding through his ribcage, setting his pulse to a quicker beat. He pressed into the kiss, forcing Lucas to almost pull back, and he tasted the slick enamel of teeth, the grained texture of his tongue. His chest filled with a breath, exhaling, and the rhythm was speeding up. 

Lucas bumped into the edge of the doorway, a grimace flicking over his features for only a second. Adam fell from his hold, bouncing on top the bed. He pulled his knees up and scooted back as Lucas crawled on and over him, offering a kiss that turned sloppy, lazy, with wet noises that made Adam squirm. A long fingered hand settle on his side, pulling his shirt up, and he grabbed Lucas’s wrist.

“No,” he said.

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “You don’t wa-”

“It takes too long for you to get my clothes off and I hate your buttons,” he said, pushing Lucas back enough so he could get his own shirt off. Lucas stared at him, watching as Adam yanked the shirt up over his head and discarded it off the bed. A rough chuckle found its way from Lucas’s throat and he leaned back, weight now on his legs and knees, hands unbuttoning his shirt. 

Adam didn’t stop until all his clothing was piled together and off the bed. He turned his gaze back to Lucas, who was kicking his off his pants and underwear. Lucas looked up at him, lips falling into the lopsided toothy smile Adam can see when he closes his eyes. He reached out, finger tips tracing over the other’s face, rising and falling with bone and skin. Lucas turned his face into the touch, and turned further to press a kiss against Adam’s wrist. 

With a guiding touch, Lucas moved Adam so his head would relax back on the pillows, and Adam spread his legs, allowing Lucas to settle between his thighs. His hands, warm, the skin beginning to moisten, rubbed over Adam’s thighs.

“You’re not shy at all,” he murmured. 

Adam’s face drew into a frown. “Should I be?” He existed within a casing of skin, muscles, and bone both fragile and sturdy. Everyone else existed within the same casing. They had discarded their clothes, most of it, the previous night and Lucas had been witness to his skin. 

“No,” Lucas said, ghosting his lips across Adam’s jaw. “No.”

“Am I doing something wr-”

Lucas leaned his weight against Adam’s, pressing him into the bed, and there was a tongue in his mouth, stealing his words, replacing them with soft sounds. Adam fitted his hands against the space that was created between their chests when Lucas raised up, coarse, curled hair rubbing over his palms. He grazed one of his nipples and Lucas sighed, something wispy and born from the depths. 

Adam took his time in memorizing Lucas’s frame, the full shoulders, the broad back, ribcage in hidden beneath muscle, and scattered hair upon his belly. His exploring touches were returned by Lucas, halted when a wandering hand wrapped around his heated erection. He bucked up into the grip, fingers squeezing Lucas’s arms, a kiss framed by a smile followed. 

Their bodies dipped together, pressed, drew back, and repeated. Adam’s hands hungered for skin, the slow movements turning into fevered gripping. A trail of saliva, wet, warm fading to chill, went from his chest down to his hips, and a sharp moan tore from his throat as breath and tongue fell upon him. Adam squirmed, shoving the heels of his hands against the bed. Lucas chuckled between his thighs, leaving one last long stroke of tongue from tip to base, and then he sat up. 

A disheveled gaze was worn on Adam’s face and he panted, lips parted, as Lucas reached to his night stand. The drawer scrapped against the track and wood. He showed Adam a plastic-wrapped square package and the small bottle he’d retrieved.

“Do you trust me?” The words were curled in his accent, open, asking. 

Adam licked his lips, feeling himself jerk, cock following in motion, and he nodded. “Yes.” The small bottle opened with a pop. 

Lucas kissed him, then drew back, squeezing a generous amount of clear substance onto his hand. Adam’s gaze followed him as he took his place between parted legs. Soft kisses were lined against one thigh and then the other, and he still watched, unable to see how the features on Lucas’s face were arranged, now obscured by angle and fallen bangs. 

A finger stroked along his scrotum and to the small expanse of skin beneath. Adam shifted, stomach rolling with a quick breath. He was present, lying on the bed, body tensed in anticipation, but he was also trying to layer this image. He remembered looking down to find a smiling face, soft skin, and rounded hips. But he was now the one looking up, lying on his back. 

Lucas’s mouth was back on him, daring more than flicks of a tongue, the head of his cock rested against a broad tongue and wet, silky skin. One of Adam’s legs kicked, toes spreading, and he gasped, language backing away from him altogether. His cock disappeared slowly past Lucas’s lips and the small of his back arched up as one finger slicked up the area it desired and slid in. His spine curved, then straightened, and Lucas released his erection, drawing his head up so his features were visible.

He looked relaxed, arousal and eagerness splashed carelessly over his face. Lips turned into a grin and he asked, “Alright?”

Adam’s nod was stuttered and bobbing. He clenched around the finger, foreign, odd, but growing less obtrusive. The quick laps were back, tasting hardened throbbing skin, and there was a thrusting rhythm inside of him. His hips twitched, but soon enough they rolled with the motions. When the second finger appeared, bringing with it a soft burn, his fingers grabbed at the bed spread. 

And when there were three, and his cock was slick with saliva from top to bottom to balls, noises spilled from his lips. They hovered in gentle whimpers, gasps that started tiny then broke, and pointed, contained moans that fell onto the bed and faded. 

The bed creaked as Lucas withdrew his fingers, tearing plastic, and changed his position. Hands wrapped around slender thighs, bodies shifted so they were flushed against each other. Adam could feel sweat dusted on his shoulders and neck. Hands stroked the trembling flesh they held and Lucas looked at him.

“Still alright?”

“Y-yes…” Adam exhaled, and his face contorted with a question. “It will be good for you too, right?” Lucas had been the driving force so far, eager for flesh and taste, though Adam welcomed him, held out a hand. He wanted the knowledge that Lucas possessed, to place it within the shelving of his mind, to lay it flat. He wanted to return all that Lucas could give him.

The other man paused, lips quirked up. “It will be wonderful.”

The answer settled that rising boil, the slick feeling that oiled everything till he couldn’t hold on. Adam closed his eyes, heard the soft murmur of “relax, relax”, and there was a different shape pushing in, asking to be accepted into his body. Adam groaned, caught between discomfort and sudden, stretched arousal. When they were flush against each other, Lucas held still, murmured in Danish, words Adam couldn’t even begin to place, but pulled him into an embrace, ghosted over his face, and warmed him. 

He pushed his legs up, tightened them around Lucas, and the first motion was left to the other man. The first thrusts wavered, sliding to find the right place, gauging discomfort. But by the sixth, Adam could feel something growing, pushing everything outside that was spiraling around, that kept surfacing in his mind. It drew him deep, blocked his memories, and he was that moment, a moment only him and Lucas were present in. 

His silence was broken, torn apart by pleasure that bit into his skin, which dug into his muscles, crashed into him as dizziness would. Lucas had settled over him, lips against his neck, returning his pleas, his whines with words that fell and shifted with a heavy accent. He found the courage to let go of the bed spread and placed his hands upon Lucas’s back. Muscles bunched, stretched beneath his palms, everything was alive, moving, and he was moving with it. 

Lucas was able to pull a keen from his throat, static pleasure raising the hairs of his neck and arms. Something close to a broken-edged mewl dribbled from him and Lucas was inside of him and yet there was a hand around his cock, coaxing, asking for his climax, wanting to help find the end. Only three strokes were needed, Adam’s body strung tight between pleasure and chaos, and he felt himself emptying onto the hand that held him. He tightened one last time, forcing the build-up of want, of anxious desire, out of himself. Lucas groaned in his ear, something deep, tumbling from on high, and he pushed on, finding that a few more thrusts were needed for his end.

They were a mess of limbs, sweat slicked skin, cum spilled over their bodies. They held their positions for a minute as Adam tried to climb back inside his body and Lucas filled his lungs. Adam’s gaze drew upwards, lacking his significant flicking motion, and Lucas smiled down at him. One hand slid along Lucas’s back, pushing the man’s head down so Adam could lick his lips open and then push into a tired kiss. 

“How do you feel?” Lucas asked, pulling back and out. 

Adam felt a twist of anxiety, seeing Lucas in his mind slip off the bed and disappear. But Lucas got up, threw the condom in the trash can. He grabbed the extra blanket, dropped beside him, and gathered Adam into his hold before wrapping them up. With his cheek pressed against Lucas’s chest, he could hear the solid beat of his heart, slowing, but still fluttering. 

“Good,” Adam said, finding it was the only word prepared. “I feel good. It was good.” His eye were trying to shut, but there is a question burning scars into his tongue. “For you?” His voice has become slurred and Lucas stroked a hand over his cheek.

“It was perfect,” he said, pressing one last kiss to Adam’s forehead. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembered the pulse of skin against his own and humid breath against his ear. 

 

Adam slept for an hour, undreaming and quiet. When consciousness drifted towards the surface, he was aware of Lucas beside him. An arm was still securely tucked around him, keeping them close, and Adam would drift back into sleep. 

The ringing of Lucas’s phone startled them both into wakefulness, and Lucas groaned softly as he rolled over, taking the comfortable haze with him. Adam stretched, lips pulling back for a yawn as Lucas got out of bed. He turned onto his back, listening to Lucas answer in smooth, quick Danish. 

He stared at the ceiling, marking the rise and fall of his own chest. The click of claws against the hard floor approached him from the left side and the bed dipped only slightly as a snuffling nose rested against the edge. He looked over to find Fanny staring at him, tip of her tail wagging. Adam reached out and gently stroked her head. Taking another shower was being weighed in his mind and it sounded as if the other man would be on the phone for a while. 

After giving Fanny one more pet, Adam slipped out of the bed, finding his balance wavering. He paused, allowed everything to center, and began to snatch his clothes from the floor. Lucas was standing near the window, looking out, and murmuring softly. Adam listened, trying to pin words he understood, but many were said too quickly, meant for someone who existed in the same space as Lucas. 

Each sentence was said with a fondness, something gentle and interested. Adam paused at bathroom doorway, clothes held in hand, and he repeated some of the words Lucas had said that he felt were known, were familiar, but they wore masks and he could not remember what they meant. 

He left the bathroom door cracked. The water was soothing, taking away sweat and saliva, leaving him feeling sated but clean. Idly, his mind was still turning over words, there was great dislike when a word tasted familiar but refused to be known. He pushed hair from his face, washing away the last of suds from his shoulders when he finally matched a word to its meaning. 

The word had meant son. 

Adam stilled, arms frozen in place, mind building the insinuations. 

He shut the water off, pushing the curtain back, scraping the towel over him enough that his clothes would slide on and not stick. When he pulled the door open, Lucas was standing in front of it, hand out stretched. Their gazes settled on one another and Lucas’s lips pulled up. 

“Good shower?” he asked.

Adam held his gaze, sides of his mouth twitching, and he nodded. Lucas touched his hair, still soaked through from haste, and gripped Adam’s arm gently, guiding him back to the bed. He retrieved the towel from the bathroom and began to dry his hair. Lucas still smelled lightly of their activities, and he’d slipped his clothes back on while Adam had been in the shower. His nose wrinkled.

He spotted the phone in Lucas’s pocket. 

“Who was that on the phone?” he asked. 

Lucas’s hands paused, and Adam couldn’t see around the edge of the towel. “Family,” he said, then began to dry his hair again.

“You have a sister?” Adam’s chest folded in on itself. “Or a brother?”

Lucas chuckled, “You’re curious?”

“You said son.”

Lucas paused again and the silence crawled into Adam’s mouth, pressing against his throat. There was a soft sigh from Lucas and he pulled the towel from Adam’s head, settling down on the bed next to him. 

“I did,” he said after a time Adam could not measure. “I have a son. His name is Marcus.”

“You weren’t going to tell me,” Adam said, gaze dropping to the towel in Lucas’s lap. 

Lucas took two breathes, exhaled long the second time, and took Adam’s jaw between his fingers, murmuring under his breath in Danish. Adam’s eyes flicked over Lucas’s face, seeing emotion, solid and tangible. 

“I am not married,” he said, “I was, but not for a while now.” 

Adam didn’t pull away from the hold, but his gaze slid to the side, looking at the bedroom in the afternoon light. The clouds were still there, muting all the light and turning it gray. “Why doesn’t he live with you?” he asked.

“School, agreements,” Lucas said, shoulders shrugging. “We have a fine relationship.”

He took the words, spread them out, stared closely, turned them over, and repeated. “Did you not want to tell me?”

“I was waiting,” Lucas said. “I was going to tell you.”

Adam turned his eyes onto Lucas. “You promise?”

And the words held weight, a strong tie, a binding, something that he kept close inside of him, in a part that felt most acutely. Lucas returned the gaze, thumb stroking along his cheek. 

“I promise,” he said. “I wanted to wait until the right time, but that time is now, I guess.”

“Did you think I’d be mad?” Adam’s face rumpled. “I mean, everyone thinks I’ll get mad or upset, I do sometimes, but it’s not over everything, I can be told things. I’m not going to-”

Lucas laughed and leaned over, kissing him softly, but with something sealed inside the gesture. “I didn’t think you’d be mad or upset. I was,” he paused, “I was worried.”

“You were worried?” His expression only contorts more, pieces not fitting, theories spilling from his hands and onto the floor.

“Yes.” Lucas pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It…. It means I’m a single father.”

There was something left unsaid, something hiding between the curves of letters and tone that Adam couldn’t quite find. “Okay?” 

“We’re alright?” Lucas asked, forehead creasing.

“Yes?” Adam felt the confusion rolling in his sides. “Should we not be?”

There was a breathless laugh from Lucas and Adam didn’t like whatever crossed his face, leaning over to kiss him, palm settling on Lucas’s chest. He pulled back, finding whatever it was now gone. Lucas picked the towel up again and finished rubbing the water out of Adam’s hair. 

 

Adam left his books on the table, putting the idea of studying from his mind, though Lucas had suggested it was the weekend and one day off wouldn’t hurt, echoing how Carol and Eli always offered up comments that Adam never took enough breaks. 

The day was made lazy, with sharing space on the couch, and Adam poking through Lucas’s books, asking for confirmation on words he didn’t know. When evening arrived, Adam helped Lucas make dinner, and they ate, and he helped with the dishes. His books did not weigh on his mind, he did not see the pages laid out before him. 

There was a sense of centeredness, calm as he watched Lucas move throughout the house. Despite having worn clothes not his own, Adam breathed the space in with confidence. He liked standing in the halls, curling up on the couch. This was something right. Lucas placed himself within Adam’s sphere, never that far out of reach, and he seemed pleased to remain there, trading short glances with him. 

Towards the later part of the night, when the sounds outside changed in tone and origin, when the trees were quiet, and Adam’s desires shown in the sky, he was tucked up against Lucas’s side, cheek fitted against the dip of shoulder that tapered into chest. An arm was tucked firmly around him, Lucas’s fingers stroking with soft, tiny motions over his stomach and hipbone. Fanny was somewhere near the couch and had been quiet for the last hour. 

Adam felt himself shifting between conscious and unconscious, but not how he did sometimes at the apartment, when the shadows were large, and the light became colors that made his lungs seize. The rhythm of Lucas’s breathing, a quick deep inhale, then a slow, soft, lulling exhale, made him feel cradled in a space of comfort. 

The atmosphere was invaded by the sound of a text reaching Adam’s phone and he didn’t move, tucking tighter into the shape of Lucas’s body. But when the second text came through, followed by a third, he pulled away and picked the phone up. 

All three were from Eli and they digressed from “hey I’m home” to “are you out” and ended with “adam where the fuck are you and why aren’t you answering”. Adam stared at the screen, trying to find anything hidden between the letters, any sense of tone. His thumbs hovered until he finally sent back “I’m staying with a friend. I’m ok.”

The phone was just about to be set back on the coffee table when it chimed again. Lucas’s lips pulled into a grin as Adam sighed. This text read as “friend you mean like ‘the friend’. are you okay?” and before he could answer the screen lit up with “okay no are you safe? thats more what I want to ask”. 

Adam’s face shifted to have creases. He was half-way through his response when the phone buzzed and it read as an incoming call. He glanced at Lucas, who tilted his head, then stood up and answered as he meandered away.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, so explain this entire thing to me,” Eli said.

“I’m staying with my friend,” Adam said.

“Look, I got that, or I sort of do,” there was a crumpling noise from Eli’s side, “Did you tell anyone you were going to stay there?”

“No.”

Silence.

“I’m okay,” Adam said. “I’ve been staying here the past few days.”

“Past few days? Are you, I can’t,” A pause, and then a long exhale, “Adam, you went to stay with a stranger for a few days without telling anyone?” 

“He’s not a stranger.” Adam began to rub the arm holding the phone, fingers pressing into the flesh of his forearm. “I know who he is.”

“I get that. But-“

“Then you don’t get it,” he said. 

“You went off with someone you barely knew and didn’t tell anyone,” Eli snapped. “That’s definitely not a positive decision, Adam.”

Adam saw himself drop the phone, throwing it, hanging up and turning it off. But all those options remained theories. “A note, I should have left a note,” he said.

“Well, yeah, shit.”

Silence again, but tinged with uncomfortable foot shifting and finger counting. 

“Do you have a ride home tomorrow?” Eli asked.

“No, not right now.”

“Then I’ll come and get you, alright? Just, tomorrow give me the address,” Eli said, and Adam could see him pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay.” Something occurred to him. “Carol is back too, right?”

“Yeah, she was tired though, and she went to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Eli’s voice was smoothed out, missing some of the edges it had grown.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Adam said, and he hung up. He looked around and his gaze settled on Lucas, who was still seated on the couch, but now he was leaning forward, feet planted on the ground and his focus on Adam.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, my friends are back,” Adam said, meandering back towards him. “One of them will pick me up tomorrow.”

“Are they okay with that?”

Adam paused, facial muscles twitching. “Was it rude to ask?”

Lucas shook his head and stood up from the couch. “Nej, nej. I just wanted to be sure,” he said, moving over to Adam. He drew him close, leaning down to kiss the side of his nose. Adam let his eyes close, feeling the soft kisses being placed against the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. Lucas finally stopped, his forehead resting against Adam’s.

“You’re tired,” Adam said.

“I think I am tired,” Lucas said, even if the day had been relaxing and they’d taken a nap earlier. 

Adam stepped out of his hold, taking one of his hands and locked their fingers together. He led Lucas down the hall and along the path to the bedroom, a path his feet had walked few times. The shadows were long, deep in stretches, and there was no light ahead.

He didn’t pause, fingers wrapped firmly between Lucas’s, and he was left with the warmth of skin and the soft pulse beneath it.

 

Adam’s books were all packed up, placed side by side in the back pack, and his laptop was secure in its bag. He was wearing one of Lucas’s shirts and his own pants, his dirty shirt placed carefully in the back pack with his books. 

Breakfast was comfortable silence and they’d spent the rest of the time just sharing space, until the soft rumble of a car drew their attention outside. Adam opened the front door to find Eli climbing out of an institute car. Adam shouldered his backpack and picked up his computer bag, turning to Lucas. “Thank you,” he said.

Lucas offered a small grin. “You’re welcome.”

Adam’s gaze flickered over Lucas’s face, lingering for just a moment on his lips, but Lucas’s gaze was drawn away to Eli who was approaching. He pushed his want of a kiss back, turning to look at his friend. 

“Hello,” Eli said, stopping a few feet from them.

“Hello,” Lucas returned. 

“This is Lucas,” Adam said, “and Lucas, this is Eli. He’s my roommate.”

“Ah, very nice to meet you,” Lucas said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“That I don’t doubt.” Eli reached forward to shake Lucas’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. He’s very mysterious about this person he hangs out with.”

A wry smile found its way to Lucas’s face. “I am anything but mysterious.”

“It’s nice to put a face to the person,” Eli said. “Thanks for housing him.”

“Anytime.” Lucas glanced at Adam, who returned the look. Lucas looked caught in a shifting sea, unsure if the next motion would be up or down, and Adam reached forward, brushing his fingers against his arm.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and Lucas nodded.

“Farvel, Adam.”

“Farvel, Lucas.”

 

Adam buckled his seat belt as Eli started up the car and Eli didn’t turn the radio on when he drove forward. Adam glanced at him, noting his firm expression, cheeks sucked against his teeth. There was something in the car, sharp, harsh, and pressing everything downward. Adam shifted in his seat, turning to look out the window. The sky was a toss-up between cloudy and blue patches, and it made him feel more sleepy than just gray stretches did. 

“Are you seeing him?” Eli asked, a crack in the pressure.

Adam frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked, Adam.”

“I guess so.” His fingers traced the seam on his pants.

“Guess? You don’t know?” 

“We haven’t said anything,” Adam said, “I think we are.” The way Lucas would stroke a thumb across his cheek was answer enough. Adam remembered when he had been in Lucas’s position, staring at someone with adoration. 

“How much do you know about him?” Eli was leaning back in the driver’s seat, gaze still fixated on the road.

“We talk.”

“That doesn’t cut it. How much do you know?”

Adam turned to look at him. “I know more and more when we see each other.”

“This man is still pretty much a stranger and you just went and spent three days at his home,” there was something crackling in his tone, “and without leaving a note or texting Carol or myself. That wasn’t smart. That was dumb.”

There was a bristling in his spine. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act recklessly like one.”

“I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions and it felt fine,” Adam said, “He’s not a danger.”

“Being capable of decision making isn’t a grand argument. Plants can make decisions.” 

His fist connected with the side of the passenger door and Adam felt everything turning over, boiling, and oily. “It was fine!”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Eli snapped. 

“Just shut up,” Adam said, something trying to force its way up his throat. “Shut up.”

Eli jabbed the radio on, turning the music up even as his lips curled back. 

 

The car door slammed with finality as Adam got out, stalking up towards the institute, gait swinging between anger and desperation. 

“Grab your fucking bags,” Eli yelled. “I’m not grabbing them for you.”

Adam forced himself to stop, feet planted in the dirt and grass, hands clenching then unclenching. He whirled around and went back to the car, grabbing his bags. But he didn’t go to their apartment, even though a thread inside of him was pulling him there. He instead went to Carol’s apartment, rapping his knuckles hard enough that a burn began under his skin.

Her roommate answered the door, expression brightening at seeing him, then crumpling when she noticed the set of his face. “Hey, Adam,” Laurel said. “Carol isn’t here right now.”

With that, all his anger was washed away, like rain against a window. “She isn’t?”

“Nope,” Laurel said. 

“Is she at the library?” he asked.

“She’s off-site. She had to do something,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “She didn’t say what though.”

He fidgeted, shoulders slumping. “Alright.”

“Sorry, Adam. I’ll tell her to find you when she’s back.” Laurel offered an apologetic smile.

As he walked down the hall, heading towards the library, he pulled his phone out and pulled up Carol’s name. He pressed call and it went straight to her answering message. He didn’t leave one.

 

Adam settled into the usual table in the library and as he spread his books out, the area of the table rose up and leaned into him. Without two more bodies, it looked like a wilderness, long and intimidating, a home too big for one person. He set his elbows against the wood grain and buried his face in his hands. 

The small sprig of weightlessness that had come knowing Eli and Carol were home was gone, cut clean and lost to the void. He exhaled slowly, feeling everything in his body jammed up, stiff. He didn’t want to touch his books. He wanted to be seated at his apartment table with Eli on one side and Carol on the other. 

Instead, he forced his hands away from his face and picked up his books, lining them up again and again, smoothing pages once, twice, and then lined everything up. He stared at pages for five minutes at a time, eyes scanning the letters, but not acknowledging the way in which they were arranged. 

He stayed until the time had gone past when Eli went to bed. The books were gathered, placed in his bag, and he wandered back up to their apartment. The lights were off and it was a strange creature, similar in shape to the one he’d lived in when Carol and Eli had left on their trip, but different. There was another presence now, but it was as cold as the floor he walked on. 

He didn’t turn any lights on and the sound of his door shutting with a soft click echoed throughout the darkened room.

 

Breakfast was eaten separately. Adam had woken to find Eli gone and everything was still quiet and empty. There were no messages from Carol on his phone yet, and he had stopped by her apartment later, hovering outside until he convinced himself that she would contact him. 

The library became his haven and he skipped lunch, which caused him to fidget, pushing his books around. He lined them up, felt a pressure inside of him, and shoved them out of place, only to stare for a minute then rearrange them. 

In the evening, he stumbled across Eli in the apartment. They glanced at each other, Adam’s fingers clutching the bag he held, and there was no energy in Eli’s expression. It was flat, stretched, blank. His lips didn’t even attempt to form words and he retreated to his bedroom, door closing with a metallic click. A wave of dizziness wrapped itself around Adam and his lungs felt trapped against his heart. 

He checked his phone and the messages were still blank. 

 

Lucas left him a message wondering if Adam would like to get a late lunch that day. There were no more seminars or classes or meetings for Adam. His books had been left on his bed, untouched. He hadn’t finished a graph in two days. He accepted the offer and sent Lucas a message telling him so.

On his way out of the institute, he ran across Osvald. The man nodded at him, and said, “Don’t forget about the applications.”

The word now hung heavy inside of him, crawling between bones and sliding across his mind. He’d opened a document on his laptop for a list of places to submit applications and to compare their negatives alongside their positives. But that document had been forgotten when he’d gone to Lucas’s. The blank space now hollowed out a corner of his mind and its presence was large. 

Lucas was seated at a table in the diner they’d gone to previously. Adam approached him, all twitches and fidgeting. There was a raw spot on the inside of his left cheek. Lucas glanced up as he sat down, gaze immediately on the table top, with all its scratches and rub marks. His hands were dropped into his lap. 

“Hello, Adam,” Lucas said, tilting his head forward, trying to catch the skittering gaze.

“Hello,” Adam replied. 

The sounds of the café, soft whispers, dishes clinking, and the sound of the kitchen hovered between them. Adam still hadn’t looked up, his shoulders would jerk to the side, and he swallowed every minute or so. 

“Is something wrong?” Lucas asked.

“No,” he said, tracing one of the chip marks in the table, the white giving way to a dark color. 

Lucas was still staring at him and his own fingers smoothed over the table surface. No words were exchanged for a minute and Lucas cleared his throat. “How’s school?”

“Fine.” Adam was sitting tightly in the chair, elbows pulled against his sides, and hands returned back to his lap. Lucas’s next question was interrupted by the waitress, who wore a lazy, glossy smile. She asked a few questions in Danish, and when Adam didn’t respond, his mind drawing the blinds between knowledge, Lucas stepped in. His voice fell into the steady rhythm of his native language, words pushed together, dropped fast and gently connected. Adam almost closed his eyes, imagining himself becoming a part of those words, crawling in between them like seeds within a shell.

When the girl walked away, and Lucas was turning his gaze back, Adam said, “I forgot to do something.”

“What did you forget?” Lucas adjusted his glasses.

“I was supposed to start working on applications.” One of his hands rested against the edge of the table, feeling the cool plaster.

“What applications?” Lucas’s brow creased and Adam wondered if he was searching through the files in his mind for previous conversations.

“For where I want to continue my actual studies,” he explained, “What university and observatory I should attend for grad-school.”

The waitress returned, placing down a mug of coffee for Lucas and a glass of orange juice for Adam. His hands immediately found their way to the glass, fingers wrapping around the cool object. His chest released some of the tension inside of it.

“Have you any ideas about where you want to go?” Lucas asked.

“Sort of.” Adam shifted the glass to the left. “But I meant to make a list and then compare. I haven’t done that. I forgot.” He shifted the glass to the right. His mind imagined Osvald, leaning over his desk, elbows set, and that straight browed expression of disappointment. His shoulders pulled back and tighter, ankles pressing together. He had been told more than a week ago. It was written on his board. Eli and Carol had their lists. They were crossing names off. They were writing titles to letters. 

Eli wouldn’t look at him.

“Would you like help?” Lucas picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip.

“No,” Adam snapped, everything twisting, pulling tight, cutting into flesh in his mind. “I don’t.”

Lucas paused, mug held in mid-air. Adam’s gaze was stuck on the glass, noting the dry stain of orange juice on the left side, where it had spilled. There was a soft, grainy texture to the juice, and there was silence in front of him. He glanced up. 

The mug was on the table and Lucas’s expression had wrinkled. His lips twitched, ready to ask a question, but it was discarded. “You’ll get it done. It’s alright.”  
Adam was torn between jumping up, shoving the chair, then walking straight out the door to someplace he didn’t know, and crawling under the table, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. He didn’t want to be around people or in the light that made him squint.

Lucas looked around, then got out of his chair, pulling it around to Adam’s side and sitting beside him. The first touch to his arm made Adam flinch, but the gentle stroke of fingers from shoulder to wrist became a rhythm, it drew him back into his skin, back down into his bones, and he managed to look at Lucas from the side. 

“Yesterday,” Lucas started, picking up his mug with his free hand, “Fanny dropped herself into a hole. I was in the house so I didn’t know.”

His pulse was throbbing in his neck and wrists. “Is she okay?”

Lucas chuckled. “Yes, she is fine. But I didn’t find her for a while. She was very angry at me for it, she refused to sit in the same room for the rest of the day. I had tried to explain to her that I didn’t know and it wasn’t on purpose.”

“She’s a dog,” Adam said, shoulders relaxed an inch, and turning towards Lucas’s direction. “They don’t speak like us.”

“No, that is true,” Lucas said, setting his mug down and taking one of Adam’s hands in his, stroking his thumb over the top. “She’s a dog, but she can be angry about being left in a hole she found herself.”

Adam surrendered his hand to Lucas, listening to the tones of his voice that he heard when everything around him was quiet. His mind built the image of Lucas’s main room with the couch, the coffee table, the scuffs on the floor. He could see Fanny there, curled up on the ground beside the couch and Lucas calmly explaining the situation. 

His lips pulled upwards. “Has she forgiven you?”

“She did,” Lucas said. “But now I’m more careful with letting her outside.”

Their food arrived and Lucas let go of Adam’s hand, leaning back in his chair as it was set before them. A dull ache in his stomach made itself known and all Adam could remember eating was a slice of bread, toasted, with a very thinly measured dab of butter. He picked up the sandwich and eagerly took a bite, finding that Lucas had explained how to layer the condiments on. 

Lucas watched him take two bites before picking up his own sandwich. Adam watched him out of the corner of his eye, but Lucas’s posture remained solid, more organic like a tree than something harsh like a rock. He didn’t seem ruffled by Adam’s behavior, a strange creature of raw nerves and desire to fold in upon itself.

He fiddled with his sandwich when it was half-gone, tracing the ruffled curve of the lettuce. “I’m worried,” he said.

There wasn’t a pause or hesitation from Lucas. “About what?”

“What happens if I don’t get accepted somewhere?” he said.

“You’re smart.” Lucas took another bite, not worried about how the food muffled his voice.

“But a lot of people are. Carol and Eli are smart.” And neither had said a word yet to him. “Osvald said I needed to pick somewhere that benefitted me, not somewhere I thought I could get in. But wouldn’t most places benefit me? A lot of programs are similar and I could learn something anywhere. But he wants me to pick a place I’d like, I think he said to find one I would enjoy. But I don’t know what I’d enjoy. They’re all places I haven’t seen or lived at and there’s large halls and new corners, and all I’m working with is information. Carol and Eli haven’t said where they’re applying and I don’t know what they’re picking or how. And….” His lungs were flat and they ached. Adam stopped, wetting his dry lips.  
Lucas wasn’t eating his sandwich anymore, his full attention on Adam, eyes flicking over his face. “Can you ask them?”

“Not right now,” Adam said. 

There was a tiny head tilt. “Do you want to go where they’re going?”

“That would be counter-productive,” Adam said.

“They are your friends.” Lucas picked his coffee up. “You like being around them.”

Adam thought of Eli’s eye rolling and Carol’s broad smile. “I do,” he said, lifting the rest of the sandwich to his mouth. “Some students were talking about making an astronomy app for phones, a new app anyways. Do you know anything about winter constellations?”

Lucas only smiled.

 

Eli’s door was shut and all the lights were off when Adam returned. He hovered in the entrance way, then hovered near the table, looking at the light that spilled from under his friend’s door. It was a warm, liquid yellow, but he couldn’t feel its heat. It was evening, late evening, and he didn’t want to sit inside the apartment. 

He took his backpack and books with him, shuffling along the housing hallways. He would sit in the library until he felt he needed to go back, until he itched to be a smaller space that his mind could fill the corners of. Adam reached the main floor, the den area, and shouldered his bag as he headed for the door.

“Adam.”

He paused, turning to look over his shoulder. Carol stood on the other side of the den, shoulders slumped, hair down and frizzy in spots. There were circles under her eyes, and she seemed less like the sunlight he associated her with and more with fluorescent light that washed everything out.

“Hi,” he said, shifting his weight on his feet, then forcing himself to walk with jerky movement towards her. ‘You’re back.”

“Yup,” she said, taking three steps to meet him.

“I sent you a message,” he said.

“My phone’s been on the fritz and I forgot my charger.” She flashed a loose-lipped smile. “Stupid of me, right?”

“Stuff happens right,” he echoed her own words.

“It does.” Her gaze flicked over him. “Where are you going?”

“To the library.”

“Right now? You’re not going to have dinner with Eli?” Her eyebrows raised. “He doesn’t want to go to the library either?”

Adam dropped his head, looking at his fingers as they felt along the backpack strap. He counted the stitching, then looked up, finding Carol’s frowning gaze.

“What happened? Are you two fighting?” She reached out and touched the hand tracing the back pack stitching. 

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Not really, huh,” she murmured. “Okay, well, don’t go to the library. Come stay with me tonight. There’s room. Maybe you two need space.”

Adam blinked, feeling her fingers intertwine with his. He allowed himself to be pulled back towards the hallway. She threw a smile over her shoulder, but it still didn’t sit right, not like the smiles he knew she gave.

“He hogs you anyways,” she said. “The couch isn’t so bad. Do you think you’ll be okay with the couch?”

“Maybe.”

She squeezed his hand. 

Her roommate wasn’t in sight and Adam assumed she was in her room, with the door shut, and light spilling from beneath. Carol’s room was made up of a full sized bed, a desk, two book cases, and some shelves that had different plants in pots on them. Everything was quiet colors that blended together to make it one entity and not multiple objects.

“Just put your stuff down,” she said. “You know the drill.”

He did as he was told, meandering after to look at her plants. There were six of them in different shapes, some that looked like they flowered and others resembled ferns. Their area of the room smelled organic, of earth and plant. Adam looked back to find Carol watching him. 

“If you want to study, you can, but I think we should watch a movie,” she said. “I have a Danish one for practice, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” he said, floating between desires. 

He sat on her bed as she booted up her laptop. Her presence seemed smaller and Adam was trying to fit the Carol in front of him against the one in his mind. Everything was quiet and pressed together, it shifted the shelf inside of him, distress sliding off and spilling into his body.

“Where did you go after the trip?” he asked as she typed her password in.

“I had an appointment to go to,” she said, “that’s all.”

“Like the appointment I went with you to?”

Her hands froze, two seconds counted, and she picked the laptop up, walking over to the bed. “Sort of.”

“What was it for?” he asked, scooting over.

She shrugged, “Just an appointment.” Carol settled besides him and pulled up the movie menu screen. He watched her, noting her turned away gaze. He made himself comfortable, and her shoulders dropped subtly. 

Half-way through the movie, he dozed off, foot dangling off the bed and cheek pressed against his hand. When he came to, his arm prickled in a way not entirely pleasant and his cheek was numb. He lifted his head, finding that the laptop screen had gone dark and Carol was curled up, back against the wall, breathing softly. 

His pulse rose under his skin and he carefully sat up. The room was familiar and yet foreign in the dark. It didn’t smell like his room and the light from outside filtered in wrong. It was still night, and he could tell it was late by the silence outside. He slid off the bed and padded across the floor, the walls were leaning over him, and he needed to feel ground beneath his feet. 

He stood in the main room, fingers clenching, then stretching out. He wandered over to the large window, pushing the curtains to the side. Artificial light fell sharply against the ground, crawling into the crevices of building walls. Adam looked at the sky, spotting soft points of light, muted by the lamps. 

He buttoned his jacket at the door and left, walking down the empty hall, down to the den, and out the door into the night. He could see his breath rising into the air, visible against the night sky. He wrapped his jacket tighter, the chill threatening to slid under the fabric and hug him. The grass softened his footsteps and he wandered away from the institute, out into the scattered trees. 

Adam settled in a small clearing, not too far from the observatory, but far enough he could see the night sky clearly. He sat on a sloping hill, knees bent and up, hands shoved into his pockets. The sky stretched, felt open, curved, and he took a deep breath of chilled air. There was a falling star and he tracked it as it streaked then faded out. 

Time passed in the form of falling stars, quiet, existing, seemingly still till it dropped and disappeared. There were foot steps behind him and the sound of someone slipping on the hill. Carol dropped beside him, letting an “oomph” escape, before she smiled, something much brighter and full.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

Adam shook his head. “Everything felt tight.”

“Feels good out here, right?” She turned her gaze up. “It’s open and the air is so crisp. I love it.”

He was silent, dropping his focus to the dark ground. “You were right.”

“About what?” She didn’t look away from the sky. 

“Sometimes walks are good,” he admitted.

She laughed and the sound filled the spaces inside of him. A smile found its way to his lips and she looked at him. 

“Told you so,” she said. 

The silence returned, but it wasn’t a barrier, it was a connection. His fingers picked at the grass beneath him. “Eli is mad at me,” he said.

“Yeah?” She drew her knees up. “About what?”

“While you two were gone, I went and stayed with Lucas.” 

She frowned, “Is that the person you met in town?”

“Yeah,” he said, “And I didn’t tell either of you. I didn’t leave a note. He said I was being irresponsible and like a child.” His shoulders hunched, Eli’s smeared expression, his lips turned down sharply.

Carol sighed. “Maybe leaving a note and not telling us wasn’t the best, but whatever. You’re fine. Just next time leave the note. It’s best if we know where everyone is.” She leaned her cheek on her knees. “Or just give us Lucas’s number so if something happens we can call him too.”

“You’re not mad?” He looked at her and found a smile on her face.

“Not really. No point.” She chuckled gently. “Though I’m a little sad he got to meet Lucas and I didn’t.”

“He doesn’t like Lucas,” Adam said, voice rough and pulling back. “He doesn’t like him one bit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t really surprise me, but I’m curious why.”

Adam pulled two tufts of grass up, then pressed them back against the ground.

“I’m sure Eli will tell me,” she said, “don’t worry.”

She flopped back, arms landing above her head. Adam looked at her then followed suit. They laid there, staring up at the sky in its constant state of change and silence. 

“Promise me I’ll get to meet him,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, “I promise.”

“Pinky swear.” She held over her hand, pinky extended. He looked from her face, obscured by the dark, to her hand, the smallest finger held out.

“That makes no sense,” he said, but as she opened her mouth he reached out and connected his pinky with hers. “But I promise.”

His skin was cold, the top hardened from the air.

But where his finger and hers connected, a small bubble of warmth began.


	9. Fallen Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait. Stuff happened, life is a brat. 
> 
> I don't know if this chapter is up to par, I am so sorry. But here it is.

“You know,” Carol said, “that’s a new thing for you.”

Adam was sitting at the breakfast bar, watching her move around the kitchen. When Eli cooked, it was with subtle movements, no energy wasted, straight-forward. But Carol moved with grand gestures, leaning onto the balls of her feet, and swooping her arms out. 

His elbows leaned upon the counter. “What?”

“The bed thing,” she said, two pans on the stove top, both containing eggs. 

Adam frowned, the corner of his lips twitching. Carol turned to face him. 

“You’ve never shared a bed with Eli or myself,” she told him. “You’d get antsy and restless.”

“Oh,” and that’s all he could find.

“Is it because of your guy?” There was a hint of a smile on lips. 

“My guy?” 

“Adam, sometimes you seem really dense,” she said, “and I know better. The guy you stayed with.” Her attention was back on the stove top. She had two plates to the right, side by side. Carol put one pan of scrambled eggs on one and deposited the second pan on the second plate. 

“Maybe,” Adam said, “we shared a bed.”

“More than once?” The pots were set in the sink and one of the plates was set in front of Adam.

He picked up his fork. “Yes.”

“Did you have sex?” she asked.

He paused, then stabbed a forkful of scrambled eggs, “Yes.” 

Carol was silent, food untouched, face blank. “You used a condom, right?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged then. “Well, as long as you’re safe. Was it good?”

“It was,” he said from around a mouthful of eggs. “I liked it.”

“You really like this person, don’t you?” She leaned against the breakfast bar, taking her first bite of breakfast. “You seem like you do, anyways.”

Adam lowered his fork. “Of course I do.”

“Well, you like me and you like Eli,” she told him. “But this guy-” An annoyed sound, “damn, tell me his name. I’d like to use a name.”

“Lucas.”

“Right, this Lucas, you like him in a romantic sense,” she said. “You wouldn’t share a bed with us before him. But you didn’t even hesitate last night.”

Adam stared at her, facial muscles twitching. She was painting and he couldn’t make out the shapes, confused by the colors. “I don’t understand.”

“You treat everyone in a similar manner.” She pointed her fork at him. “The only difference is people you trust and people you don’t. There’s very little give within those groups. But look, Lucas, you’re treating him differently than you treat me or Eli. Maybe this isn’t just liking a person, you might love him a bit.”

His response was a crumpled expression.

She sighed. “Adam, you can have sex with someone that you like, casually. Eli’s done it, I’ve done, and maybe you have or probably would. I mean, you and I could have sex, but there’s nothing in it outside of enjoyment between people whose company is agreeable. We’re friends, and I love you, but in a way that’s different than what I’m suggesting.”

Adam’s gaze was unfiltered, wide, steady.

“We’re not going to have sex because we’re friends,” Carol said, “And I don’t really look at you that way, not that you aren’t good looking. But what I’m trying to say is that there’s a difference between Lucas and us. Maybe you should think about it, that’s all.”

In the silence that followed, she took three bites of her breakfast. Adam hadn’t touched his since the beginning of the conversation. Her gaze rested on his form, tense in its seat. 

“I made that really confusing, didn’t I?” Her lips stretched into an apologetic grin. “Sorry.”

“I’m confused,” Adam admitted, voice void of the common sharpness it held when he felt cornered and lost. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I guess a summary is that I’ve watched how you interact with people, and there’s something different with this Lucas,” she said. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

The response was a quiet, steady gaze. Carol continued to eat and Adam finally followed suit. Lucas tumbled through his thoughts, only to be replaced by Carol’s sudden presence, in light of the absence that had been there.

“Why do you go to town?” he asked.

Amusement creased her features. “The same reason everyone else does, you dope,” she said. “Groceries and to get out of here sometimes.”

“No,” he said. “When I went with you.”

Her expression widened, then smoothed out. “Oh, just for a check-up.”

“A medical check-up?” Adam’s voice was muffled by eggs.

She shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Are you sick?” Images of a sterile, crisp room flashed through his mind.

She scooted the pile of eggs around on her plate. “… Adam,” she began. 

He waited. 

“It’s just routine,” she said, throwing a grin at him. “So, have you talked to Eli at all?” 

He frowned, lips pursing as his focus slid onto his roommate. “No,” he said. Something felt inside out. “He hasn’t.”

“Does he at least sleep at the apartment? He isn’t being dumb and staying somewhere else, is he?” Her eyes were on the edge of rolling. “He’s so moody.”

“He does come back,” Adam said. “He just doesn’t say anything.”

“I think this is stupid, honestly,” she said. “I can talk to him if you wan-”

“No,” Adam snapped, feeling small and pushed down in his seat. “I don’t need the help. I can do it.”

Carol tilted her head, eyes flicking over Adam’s clenched jaw and fingers. “I know you can,” she said. “I didn’t meant for it to sound like you couldn’t.”

His fork scraped against the plate. He didn’t have anything to offer back, still trying to figure out why everything felt upside down. 

“I have some stuff to do today,” she said. “Will you be okay until later?”

“Yes.” 

When the plates were void of food, Carol set them in the sink. 

As they were walking out the door, Adam turned to her. “Thank you,” he said. The words felt right.

She grinned. “You’re welcome. Have a good day, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”

They parted from the door, walking in opposite directions.

 

The apartment was quiet, as still as he’d left it the previous night. Adam shut the door and slipped his shoes off. Eli was at the table, surrounded by note books and charts, laptop open but on a screen saver. He didn’t even pause in his writing. 

Adam hovered near the door, watching, waiting. But Eli never turned around, never stopped writing. Adam swallowed, looked towards his room, looked back to Eli, and padded towards his bedroom. He shut the door and stood in the middle of it, lost in something that was pulling him apart inside. 

He threw his back pack onto the floor, digging finger nails into his palms. The pain radiated up into his wrist.   
His eyes fell onto his calendar, where a large red circle noted a meeting with Osvald. He’d almost forgotten. 

The laptop fit snuggly into his bag along with his notes, binders, and books. Adam swung the bag onto his shoulder and padded out of his room. Eli didn’t spare a glance as he left, locking the door behind him. 

The clock had almost switched over to a minute past his appointed time. He stood in the doorway to the office, hovering. Osvald was seated behind his desk, glasses perched on his nose. His gaze flickered up and he nodded towards the chair in front of his desk.

Adam settled into it, sitting up straight, both feet on the floor. 

Osvald leaned back in his own chair, watching Adam quietly. Adam fidgeted, picking at the seams on his pants, making himself smaller in his seat.

“I’m missing something,” Osvald said.

Muscles in his face twitched. “You are?”

“I am,” Osvald said and rubbed his nose beneath his glasses. “I haven’t seen any applications or papers of intent on my desk from you.”

Adam was silent.

“Why is that?”

He swallowed, applying quick pressure to the back of his teeth. “Because I haven’t done any.”

“None at all?” Osvald raised an eyebrow.

“No.” His fingers tightened in the fabric of his pants.

There was a long sigh that tapered off. Osvald leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his desk. “Adam, you’re one of my favorites. You’re smart, dedicated, interested. Those are important factors.” He paused, letting the words tuck around Adam. “I’m very confused why I haven’t seen anything. You always do everything on time, if not do more than you should.”

Adam glanced down, back up, then towards the window. “I’ve been distracted.”

“Distracted?” The words twisted towards the end. 

“Yes,” Adam said. 

“By what?”

Lucas’s soft smile, Eli’s snort, and Carol’s sad eyes. Hot chocolate steaming in artificial light. Stars at night, the chill of the air against his face. Carol and Eli sitting across from him. Lucas’s fingers threaded through his own.

“Things,” he managed. 

“I understand life is complicated,” Osvald said, “but I need you to sit down at some point, soon, and fill out applications and letters of intent.” 

Everything inside of Adam felt taut. “Okay.”

“I have faith in you,” Osvald said. 

Adam stood up, grabbing his bag and walked to the door, stride short, but he stopped. 

“Thank you,” he said.

It felt right.

 

The library held more people than it usually did. A deadline must have been coming up for some of the students. Adam couldn’t find any remembrance of a deadline in his mind or calendar. 

He sat at a table along the wall, allowing a clear view of the floor. Groups of students were huddled all around, piles of papers and coffee cups littering the areas near them. He spread his notebooks out, lined his charts up, and arranged his books from largest to smallest. 

The very top of the applications stuck out from one of his folders. Adam touched the edge, rubbing it between his fingers. He turned back to his books, reading the same sentence five times, and then reading the sentence after it ten times. 

Adam leaned forward onto the table, weight on his elbows. His focus was shattered, left somewhere in a hallway, between the silent spaces of his room and the dining room table, buried inside of a bed he’d come to find comfort in. 

The people around him captured his attention, with their hand movements, the sudden jerks backwards as they laughed. They were huddled around phones, some were sitting with hands upon each other’s hands, stroking fingers lightly over skin. 

There was a difference, Carol said. 

Not everyone was the same to everyone. 

Carol was bright colors, muted into something softer. She was tilted smiles and wide expressions. He liked listening to her, her voice rising and dropping as easy as the wind does. She was comfortable in her body, nothing too tight or sliding off. Carol was something very organic, something that let the world shatter around her without blinking. 

Eli was steady ground, heavy, present. He was lips pursed into displeasure and emotions that overlapped, with words that were drawn from somewhere deep inside, with the ability to turn sharp as glass broken. He was extravagant swings between emotions without them ever reaching his features. A body that dragged itself into becoming.

And there was Lucas.

Adam’s eyes slid closed.

He was something warm and gentle. Fingers that were hesitant but welcoming. A voice that never rose until it found its place, its path. He was reminiscent of the forest that surrounded the land, quiet but always there, a place to fold yourself up in. Lucas was a body that had grown into itself, seams of a past life lingering.   
Adam wanted to crawl into those seams, understand them, and understand the tiny, minute emotions that rose onto his face, that weren’t hidden, but not broadcasted. 

There was a difference.

That’s what she’d said. 

He picked up his phone, bringing up Lucas’s name and typing out a text.

Adam waited, fingers tapping on the cover of "History of Astronomical Design". He counted, each number pushing him forward, leaving thoughts behind. The front of his phone lit up, displaying Lucas’s name and a message from him. 

He read it, then began to pack all his books up. 

 

Adam reveled in the way heat blossomed over his body as he stepped through the door to Lucas’s home. Lucas took his bag and waited as Adam hung his coat up and slipped his shoes off. A hearty, filling scent wafted through the house and Lucas offered him dinner.

His conversation was disjointed, allowing for Lucas to fill the room with the sound of his steady voice. He talked about the preschool, the kids, allowing Danish words to slip in for Adam’s benefit. When asked about his own day, Adam’s mouth felt hollow. 

Lucas looked at him in the silence, watching his throat work, trying to find words. He dropped his gaze, then began to tell Adam mundane, domestic things. Adam helped with the dishes and they both didn’t offer any words, working along beside one another.

“Are you going to study?” Lucas asked, gaze wandering to Adam’s bag. 

There was no desire to spread his books over the table, to repeat facts and names. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I am.”

Lucas watched him, gaze bearing curiosity. He offered Adam a beer, even knowing it would be declined. Adam remained seated at the table, knees pressed together and feet flat on the ground. He followed Lucas’s movements around the kitchen, replaying earlier conversations. 

“Am I different?” he asked.

Lucas glanced at him. “Different? From other people?”

“Yes,” Adam said.

Lucas considered this. “Maybe,” he said, features widening as Adam’s face seemed to crumple in displeasure. “Do you want to be?”

“Am I different for you?” The words were similar, but arranged differently, a new angle.

But Lucas’s face was changing into something Adam saw when students were listening to a professor speak. 

Adam stood from his chair, finding a decision among his desires. “Do you want to have sex?” Always phrase as a question, he learned. Much better than a statement of feeling.

Lucas’s mouth fell open, eyebrows rising, and he quickly shut his mouth.

“Should I not ask?” Adam’s side gaze was steady.

A flat smile appeared on Lucas’s face. “No, no. Asking is good.” He adjusted his glasses. “Yes, I would like to have sex.”

Adam stood there, fingers shifting. Lucas held his gaze for mere seconds and Adam looked away. He knew the way to the bedroom, but did his path go first? Lucas moved towards him then, one hand stroking down Adam’s shoulder and arm. He leaned over and pressed his lips against the corner of Adam’s mouth, marking a path over his jaw to just behind his ear.

Adam turned to him, breaking the motion, and captured Lucas’s mouth. It started slow, lips shifting against each other, parting for breath and saliva, breaching one another with tongue and heat. Adam sighed, eyes opening as Lucas pulled back. 

Lucas nodded towards the hallway and Adam padded his way to the bedroom. He paused by the bed, fingers beginning to pull his shirt off, but Lucas grabbed his hands, squeezing gently and offering a smile when Adam looked at him.

Adam stilled, allowed Lucas to pull his hands away. He followed his movement as he began to undress Adam himself, pulling his shirt off with a steady, adoring pace. Lucas’s hands stroked over Adam’s bare stomach and his sides, feeling how his breathing rose and fell.

Adam stood there, a casual observer, a by-stander to himself. His shirt was hanging off the edge of the bed and Lucas was undoing the button on his pants, stealing another kiss, and Adam allowed himself to push all his thoughts, loud, sharp, flashing, into a dark corner, forgotten. His fingers traced Lucas’s jaw and he gasped as a hand slid into his pants, rubbing against his swelling erection. He bucked into the touch, grip moving to Lucas’s shoulders. 

His feet shifted on the floor, heels rising off and then settling back on. He could smell the earthy scent of Lucas’s heated skin when he buried his nose against his neck. His pants were being drawn over his hips, and once they were below his knees, he stepped out of them. 

His body shuddered into touch that ran over his back, cupping his ass. Adam picked at Lucas’s shirt, and he stilled, hands resting on Adam’s lower back. Adam began to unbutton the shirt, slowly sliding button from fabric. He pushed the shirt open, touching finger tips to a torso thicker than his, dragging fingers through the coarse hair dusted over it. 

Lucas pulled his arms away from Adam long enough to allow his shirt to be slipped off, but once the deed was done, he returned to brushing touches against his back and sides. Adam undid the pants, tugging them down around Lucas’s hips. Once they were kicked off, Adam hesitantly touched the freed erection, feeling the heated skin against his palm. It was dry and twitched from the friction. His explorations took him down further, to his balls, palm rubbing against them carefully. He heard Lucas swallow. 

Adam found himself being maneuvered onto the bed, and he found himself jerking into a smile as Lucas pushed him down. He scooted back as Lucas crawled onto the bed with him, and then over him, pressing him into the sheets with a kiss that burrowed deep into his mouth. Adam gasped, wet and smothered, when hips ground into his own, and the area he’d been exploring dragged, sticking to his own skin. He shoved back and bumped up into the kiss, feeling the bite of Lucas’s glasses against his face.

He reached up and carefully pulled them off, setting them on the night stand beside the bed. Lucas offered a toothy smile and dipped his head for another kiss. The exchange was languid, fortified in the idea that time slowed, drew back when they touched. Lazy kisses, smearing across the corner of mouths and hands that memorized the muscles and bone beneath skin. 

Adam batted at Lucas, pushing him away. “Wait,” he said. 

Lucas rolled onto his side, watching, expression quiet with no angles. Adam sat up, swallowing a buildup of saliva and looked at Lucas. “I want to try something,” he said. 

“Alright,” Lucas said.

Adam motioned to Lucas’s crotch. “I want to try what you did,” he said, and he remembered how Carol said it, more slang, better than clinical. “Sucking your dick.”

Lucas’s face slackened, eyebrows raising. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Lucas said, “Just, very forward.”

“Should I not be?”

“As I’ve said before, I like it,” Lucas said, shifting onto his back. “I am just surprised.”

“Should I have said penis instead?” 

Lucas shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how you say it.” He motioned for Adam to do what he wanted, allowing the control to be passed between them.   
Adam scooted forward, settling himself between Lucas’s legs. “But I still want to have intercourse,” he told Lucas. The man chuckled. 

“Okay,” Lucas said.

He tried to remember how Lucas had moved, all the motions he’d seen mimicked by people around him. The quick glances of things people hid from prying eyes. Adam lowered his head, once more wrapping his fingers around Lucas’s erection. So similar, yet so different. The first tentative lap yielded the taste of skin, organic, heated, and something hearty. In a way, it was no different than licking his own skin, the only variation scent and slight texture. 

Lucas was silent, not saying anything, allowing Adam to walk himself through this. Adam lapped at his length, struggling to find the pattern, the rhythm. The skin was beginning to shine from spit and his laps became broader, long, following root to tip. When his mouth closed over the head, the muscles in Lucas’s legs twitched, tightened up. 

The uneven beginning began to smooth out as he discovered motions that caused Lucas to tense, to press at the bed sheets. Gentle suction with his lips against the body, a thumb rubbing the head, the tip of his tongue where root met ball sac. 

Lucas leaned forward, “Don’t go too far.”

Adam raised his head, licking his lips. “Are you going to orgasm?”

“If you keep doing that, yes,” Lucas said. 

Adam straightened his back, “I want to have sex now.”

There was a snort from Lucas and he was moving, shifting them around. Adam allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. He heard the familiar sound of a drawer being opened and the crinkle of the condom wrapper. 

Adam spread his legs as Lucas opened the lube. He took Adam’s erection in hand, stroking it twice, three times, and Adam jerked into the touch, letting out a soft exhale. The pleasure moved through him with a deep current, an under tow. 

A finger pushed into him and Adam closed his eyes, thinking of the night sky, the chill, how quiet it was when everyone was asleep. His body relaxed, stomach muscles shifting. Everything was stilted movement, and two fingers found their place, something almost comfortable. A hand stroked his abdomen and he pushed back onto the fingers inside of him. 

When Lucas was leaning over him, lips pressing to his neck, tongue flat against the skin, Adam gasped. Lucas filled him with little room left over. There was pain again, but not the kind that made him jerk away and snap. Something that melted, burned into the pleasure, the ache that made him pull Lucas closer. 

The brush of chest hair against his chest and stomach was comforting. Lucas was sturdy, a place he could curl into, something that mellowed white noise. He parted his legs further for lazy thrusts, slow slides and pauses when fully hilted, then a drag back out. 

Adam pressed his nose to Lucas’s neck, rubbing into the scent, feeling the sweat starting to form. His hands roamed between them, brushing nipples and hair. They rested on Lucas’s back, finger tips pressing into the skin gently. Lucas kissed his chin, and nuzzled beneath his jaw, pushing Adam’s head back. Adam’s throat swallowed against the kiss. 

The languid manner began to dry up, Adam pulling his legs up to cage Lucas’s hips. His body was protected, he was calm. This was something good, a straight line in a world of uneven furniture and angled rooms. Lucas pushed further into him, thrusts beginning to pick up. Theirs was a world of words in different languages, of skin sticking to skin, sweat, and sounds unearthed from deep inside. 

Adam’s voice rose as he inched closer to climax, fanned out and became stuttering. He couldn’t remain still, squirming and arching. He reached between their bodies, fingers seeking his cock. But Lucas pulled back enough to grab his hand.

“I want to,” Lucas panted. 

He slid an arm around Adam’s back, pulling him up and onto his lap, legs sprawling on either side of his hips. Adam hissed, closed his eyes. He dropped his shoulders forward, hands resting on Lucas’s shoulders. A hand closed around his erection, a tight grip that pulled at him, asked for him to find his end. 

Adam was drowning, slowed by the rush. He cried out, voice cracking as he found his climax, spilling over Lucas’s hand. Lucas kissed his ear, breath heavy with lust and impending orgasm. He held Adam close to him and Adam allowed him to continue to his end. 

Adam’s grip was tight, stuck mouthing broken sounds and words as his body tensed with pleasure spilling over a comfortable line. But then Lucas’s fingers dug into his skin, his forehead resting against Adam’s shoulder, hips stilling. 

They stayed frozen, drawing breath back into their lungs. 

“Hold on,” Lucas said, and dropped them both backwards, the movement pulling his softening member from inside Adam. They tumbled back onto the bed, a mess of slick skin and limbs. He got up and padded into the dimly lit room, returning without the condom. 

Adam tucked his face against Lucas’s collarbone, his mind still, a lake without wind. 

Lucas stroked his back, dragging fingers from shoulders to ass, then back again. Time returned and Adam counted the minutes as they passed. Moving was far from his mind. 

“What’s bothering you?” Lucas asked.

Nothing tensed up. 

“Why do you think something is bothering me?” Adam asked. 

Lucas pushed his fingers through Adam’s hair. “You are quiet, a loud quiet when there is something inside of you.”

Adam’s thoughts wandered to Carol’s tired smile, Eli’s stubborn averted gaze, and Osvald’s stern expression. 

“I haven’t done my applications,” Adam said. 

“None of them?”

“No.”

Lucas tilted his head to look at Adam. “Why not?”

“It seems like too much,” Adam said. “There’s a lot of places.”

“You don’t have favorites?” 

“No,” Adam said. “I don’t know where Eli or Carol are going either. They haven’t said.” 

“Will you miss them?” Lucas asked.

Adam thought of breakfast alone, a table set only for one. No anticipation of waiting. “I would.” He sucked on the inside of his lower lip. “But the deadlines are coming up. I can’t wait. I have to decide.”

Lucas only continued to stroke his hair and occasionally his neck.

“Carol isn’t telling me something,” Adam said, “She looks tired now. But I don’t know what’s wrong. If you ask people a question, why would they avoid it?” That was communication and it was important.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to worry you,” Lucas said.

“I am worried.”

A gentle kiss was placed to his temple. 

“She’s tired and Eli won’t look at me.” Adam swallowed. “I don’t know what is wrong.” His voice was low, “And I still haven’t done my applications.”

Silence wafted in the room, broken only by noises outside. Lucas tightened his fingers in Adam’s hair. “Jeg er ked af,” he said. 

“Tak,” Adam said. 

“Would you like to sleep?” Lucas asked. 

Adam looked up at him. “Yes.”

Lucas turned the bed down while Adam cleaned himself off. Once they were tucked inside the sheets together, Lucas’s breath ghosting over his neck and shoulders, Adam thought of his bed, untouched and small. 

“I want you to see the stars sometime,” Adam whispered. 

Lucas made a tired noise.

“Will you?”

The arms around him tightened, “Ja, Adam.”

Adam relaxed back, eyes closed from darkness to darkness. 

 

There was a knock at the door. 

Adam was sitting at the table, lunch finished and the dishes washed. He was packing his books up, preparing for his trek back to the observatory. He glanced at Lucas who was already heading that way. 

He paused, peering from the kitchen, trying to catch a glimpse. But his view was blocked. 

He zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen, approaching Lucas and the front door. He was holding it open, a casual smile painted over his features. Danish was being spoken in a manner that Adam couldn’t quite catch what was being said. The second voice was male, low like Lucas’s, natural to the language. 

Adam hovered behind Lucas, to the side a few steps. Lucas glanced back, instinct, and the guest’s gaze followed his. The man was around Lucas’s age, about his height, with a beard along his jaw. Lucas stared at Adam then his gaze flicked back to the guest at the sound of a question. 

Lucas spoke in Danish, quickly, motioning to Adam. “Adam,” Lucas said, “This is Theo, a friend of mine.”

“Hello,” Adam said, sounding very far away, moving closer to Lucas’s back. Theo watched him, gaze bright, withdrawn. 

“Hello, Adam,” Theo said. “A pleasant meeting.”

Adam nodded, tightness spreading inside of him. He could see himself going back to the kitchen, waiting until the sound of the door being closed. Instead he stood, tense, arms drawn against his body, trying to decipher the Danish being passed back and forth. 

Lucas made a lazy gesture with his hand and expressed words that Adam knew. Good bye. Theo glanced at them once more and turned, walking away as Lucas shut the door. He stood there, silent for a moment, then looked at Adam. 

They watched each other and Adam felt as if something was twisting, breaking right in his hands, but he couldn’t discern the color or shape. His grip tightened on his bag.   
“Did I interrupt?” Adam asked. 

“No,” Lucas said, but the sound was dampened, solid and no echo. “It was a surprise visit. He’s a good friend.” He grabbed his jacket. “Let’s get you home.”

“Okay,” Adam said. The shape of Lucas was wrong, but he couldn’t explain why.

The car ride was quiet and Adam allowed the silence to wrap around him. It prickled and he wanted to stand up, wanted to leave the car, but he didn’t. Lucas parked near the bus stop, and Adam opened his door, but he didn’t move. 

“We’ll go star gazing right?” he asked.

Lucas looked at him from the side. “Ja.”

Adam slid out. “Okay, bye.” Right before he shut the door, “Thank you.”

That didn’t fit. 

Lucas’s response was a smile, but Adam couldn’t find any familiarity in it. 

He watched Lucas drive away and sat down on the bench, bag firmly in his grasp.

 

The apartment was completely empty when he arrived. There wasn’t a trace of anyone having been there. His room was exactly how he left it. No notes were left on any surface and Adam wandered around the empty space, until finally he felt light headed with it.

He unpacked his books, computer, and notebooks. He spread them out on the table in the main room. There was no one to bother, no one to share his space. 

Applications were his first order of business. He separated them into piles, places and their academic academy. He wrote pros and cons, laid them on top of each pile, but he found very few things he could say about them outside of facts. Facts of logic like ranking and prestige. He didn’t know the weather, he didn’t know if the students huddled together with piles of coffee cups. He didn’t know if there was a large field where suggested walks could take place. 

He knew nothing about their taste and their color. 

Adam picked up his phone and texted Lucas, asking when he wanted to see the stars. Five minutes passed and nothing. He turned his attention back to the papers. 

 

Outside, darkness crawled out of its hiding place and Adam gave up. He was still alone. Dinner was a matter he was going to have to solve himself. It came in the shape of packaged macaroni and cheese. He ate at the table, books and papers pushed into sorted piles. 

There were still no messages on his phone.

He washed the dishes in the quiet and stood at the kitchen doorway. His phone lit up and he padded over, scooping it up. 

It was from Carol wishing him a good night and to hold tight about Eli. He texted her back with a thank you and a good night. He hovered near the table, unsure of the hollow home. But finally he forced himself to take a shower and go to bed. 

During the wee hours of morning and night, he woke. The sky was still a deep blue, faded by artificial lights. Adam sat up, smoothed his fingers over the sheets of his bed. It was cramped and yet too grand, an ocean in a swimming pool. 

The floor creaked under his feet as he walked across his room, through the main room, and to Eli’s door. It was open, spanning into the darkness of his room. Adam didn’t need his eyes to adjust to know Eli wasn’t there. 

His fingers tightened on the doorway. 

 

In the morning, Adam ate breakfast alone. His phone was still bare of messages, so he picked it up and sent Lucas a second message, sliding it into his bag. He had research due and a lecture to attend. 

Carol was in the library, face pressed into a research article. Eli wasn’t anywhere in sight. 

“I don’t want to do this,” she complained. “Why do I want to go to grad school? What evil possessed me?”

Adam frowned. “I don’t thin-”

“No, I was being sarcastic,” she said, slumping her chin in a hand. “I’m just really tired. That’s all.” Her gaze flicked over him. “Have you talked to Eli?”

Adam thought of the bed without a body. “No.”

“Huh,” she said. “He hasn’t responded to my text.” She shrugged, “Oh well. His loss.”

Adam didn’t say anything. 

By late evening, Adam was finished with his lecture and his research had been turned in. He prepared dinner, macaroni and cheese again, and glanced at his phone. 

No messages. 

He sat at the table, looking at the empty chair to his right. The apartment was till untouched, Eli’s bed still made, no wrinkles or anything. 

There was something tilted, unhinged and out of place. It was hidden in plain sight, and Adam couldn’t touch it. It was walking on a boat in a storm, swaying and stumbling. It was trying to hold onto an umbrella while wind tore around him. It was oily inside of him, coating his organs, forcing bile up his throat. 

Tremors started inside of his arms and legs. Which shelf was this? What flowchart was prepped for this? Everything was blank, wiped clean. He stood up out of his chair. 

There was no message on his phone.

Something pushed, pressure that filled every part of his being, and he had to let it go. The chair hit the ground, and the empty plate was next. A trail of mayhem began and the floor was covered with couch pillows and papers and notebooks. 

Adam stopped in front of his room, panting. He glanced at the mess left behind and leaned against his doorway, sliding down till his knees were scrunched up. It was too large, with too many corners, and nothing else to speak into the emptiness.

He buried his face in his hands.

There were still no messages on his phone.


	10. Silent Errors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry this took so long to get out. 
> 
> I don't really check comments (I get stressed out), but for those of you still following this story, bless you. I apologize that it tends to be very inconsistent and there's not enough research done for it. Hopefully someday I can go back and edit. 
> 
> I intend to finish this fic. I promise.
> 
> Also, please go look at this [picture](https://twitter.com/elrondion/status/507301976992776192) by [Feredir](http://feredir.tumblr.com). It's not fanart of this fic, but it's a lovely Lucadam piece!

“What the fuck,” Eli said.

The apartment wasn’t how he left it. The state of its appearance had decayed. The floor had broken items on it, glass and wood strewn about. There were papers chucked from one end to the other. Chairs were tipped over, lying on their side. 

He stood two feet from the doorway and stared at the scene for several minutes. Ransacked was a good choice, but he knew nothing had been stolen. There was a path in this mess and a storm seemed more accurate than ransacked.

Adam’s door was shut, and for a moment, he wondered if this was how things felt after a hurricane. Everything was much too serene, too quiet. Familiar things that once had a place were scattered in a manner that was as if someone had picked the room up and shaken it till everything found a new place. 

“Adam?” Eli called out, stepping around objects as he moved further into the apartment. There was no answer. 

He left his back pack in his room, finding it to be the only place that hadn’t met disarray. Adam’s door was still shut and he approached it, hovering only a foot or two away. 

“Adam,” he tried again. “Are you in there?” 

Silence. 

Eli fished his phone from his pocket and texted Carol, wondering if Adam was with her. His gaze wandered back to Adam’s door. He pressed on it, tried the handle very gently, finding it was locked. Carol’s answer wouldn’t matter. 

“Adam.” He leaned towards the stained wood. “Hey, open the door. I know you’re in there.” A faint noise inside, maybe shifting, maybe something being moved. “Come on.”

There wasn’t any answered. 

“The apartment is a mess,” Eli said. “Open the door.” He pressed against the door again, hearing it creak beneath his hand. “Adam, come on. You need to come out of there.”

But he didn’t. 

Two more minutes were wasted waiting, and then Eli gave up. Cleaning the apartment was tempting, the mess causing Eli’s nerves to twist and bunch. But he left everything where it was. Instead, he unpacked his bag, putting everything back in his room. 

Carol texted back with an answer he expected. She asked if everything was okay. He told her it was, but when she didn’t reply, he knew she didn’t believe him. 

The only thing he corrected was a chair at the table so he could sit. His late lunch was simple, a cheese and ham omelet. Only one of the shelves in the fridge had food on it and before he sat down, he added items onto the space themed note pad on the fridge. 

The afternoon light faded from the floor and slide back out the window. Adam was a no-show and Eli didn’t even hear anything from his room. There were points he thought maybe he’d heard a sound, maybe a voice, but it was so soft, so faint, it could easily be imagined. 

By the time the lights flickered on outside, their above neighbor was showering, and the people to their right had turned on their tv as usual, Eli had had enough. He approached Adam’s door again and knocked on it.

“Look, this is ridiculous,” he said, “I would say you can’t keep yourself locked up forever, but you’re one stubborn asshole and you might actually do it. Open the door.”  
He was sure he heard the creak of a bed. 

Eli forced himself to take a deep breath, tasting the very tone he was using. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not going anywhere tonight, open the door and let’s talk.” He’s met with silence and Eli allowed a long, deep sigh to spill from him. 

He settled himself on the floor, his back leaning against the door frame. “I’m going to stay right here. You don’t need to open the door, but come on, let’s talk.”  
Inside of the room, there was the sound of feet padding on the floor. They approached the door, but stopped a few paces from it. Eli tucked his legs up, elbows resting on his knees. 

“I called you a stubborn asshole, but you know that I’m one too, right?” Eli said. “I’m not trying to say my behavior was cool or anything, I might have overreacted. Maybe just a little.” 

Silence. 

“I got caught up, Adam,” he said, “and I probably picked the worst way to deal with it. I’m pretty sure Carol would be giving me the scolding face right now. But, look, I’m sorry. I am.”

The door creaked as if weight was being put against it. An image filled Eli’s mind of Adam sitting with his back to the door now, mirroring, wrists resting against his knees. 

More than likely, Adam was standing only a foot or two away, shoulders tipped forward and his fingers spread upon his thighs.

“Sometimes,” Eli said, “I have no idea what I’m thinking, even though it’s my own thoughts. Things look like one thing but really they’re another.” 

It didn’t seem like there would be a two-way conversation, but through the door, a muffled, “I don’t understand” was heard.

A flat smile made its way onto Eli’s face. “I don’t entirely understand either. But look, I can definitely say I’m sorry, which I am. You’re allowed to yell at me one time without me saying anything back.”

The lock was turned and the door creaked open, allowing Eli to look back and find a rather crumpled gaze. 

“Why would I want that,” Adam asked and Eli almost laughed in relief.

“Most people would,” he said, “But you probably wouldn’t care. You’ll do what you want.” He shifted away from the door and stood up. “Can we talk?”

Adam’s expression only furrowed more. “We are.”

Eli ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we are.” 

The door opened the rest of the way and Adam glanced at the mess strewn about. Nothing was in its place and the muscles inside of his skin twitched. 

“Do you not want me to spend time with Lucas?” Adam asked. 

“It’s not that simple, but before I say anything else,” Eli held up a hand, “I want to say that you are an adult and you can make your own choices, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“I overreacted. I wasn’t really sure why, but I thought maybe…” He cleared his throat, “I thought maybe it was because I liked you.”

Adam moved past him and picked up a book that was lying on the ground. “We’re friends,” he said.

“Right, but as more than friends.” Eli didn’t turn around, didn’t track him with his gaze. 

Adam paused. “Romantically?”

“Yeah.” Eli glanced at him then. “But that’s not the case, not that you aren’t unattractive or anything. I just, I don’t like you like that. Just as a friend.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Adam carried the book over to the bookcase. 

Eli almost rolled his eyes. 

Adam hovered by the bookcase. “Do you know why Carol is sad?”

“I didn’t mean for-,” Eli paused. “Wait, Carol?”

“Yes, Carol. She’s been sad lately.” Sudden silence, long stares at objects of no interest. Signs of sadness. “But she doesn’t say why.”

Eli peered at him, head tilting lower an inch. “… You don’t want to finish our conversation?”

“We’re still talking.”

“No, I mean, about you and I.” Eli motioned with two fingers. 

Adam turned to face him, gaze flickering from forehead to nose to cheek. “You said you were wrong.”

Eli bristled. “I-” Long inhale. “Yes, I did. I was wrong.”

“Okay then.” Adam slid the book onto the shelf, and began to clean up the papers strewn around it. “But I want to know about Carol.”

Eli watched him bustle around, putting things back into their exact place. Everything he’d planned was now too thin to hold in his hands. Another inhale, exhale, and he walked to the table, turning the chairs back onto their feet.

“Alright, Carol,” he said. “I honestly don’t know what’s up with her.”

Adam paused, an armful of books, sorted already by author. “Have you asked her?”

“I would have never thought to ask her,” he said. “Of course I did. She evaded the question the first time and the second time she said she’d tell us eventually.”

“When is eventually?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Adam’s face dropped into a frown. “How-”

“What I mean is, you know about as much as I do.” 

The silence between them was now something Adam recognized, it was familiar, he knew what it was. For a moment he savored it, how it fell from him to Eli, the gentle weight of it in his head. 

“Should we ask her again?” He couldn’t remember if a limit existed.

“We could. Maybe between the two of us she’ll tell us.”

“Is two better than one?” 

There was a short, humored snort. “In the land of platitudes, yes, but with this situation, not always. We might as well try. Maybe it’ll show the depth of our concern.” Eli glanced at Adam, watching him put away the last of the books. “Did she really look that sad?”

“Looks,” Adam corrected. “Sometimes.”

“Huh, what about that,” Eli murmured. 

Adam tilted his head. “What about what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on, let’s just get the room finished and make dinner.”

“It’ll be an hour late,” Adam said. “It was supposed to b-”

“I know, but sometimes things are late.” 

The clock hung on the wall, loud in his mind, but Adam found that familiar silence again. Soon it would be replaced by the noise of Eli shuffling around the kitchen.

“Sometimes,” he repeated, “things are late.”

And he slid the last book onto the shelf. 

 

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and almost everything felt secured back into its place. Adam was settled in the library, books lined up in front of him on the table. But they remained closed. He could study, but he was ahead in most of his work.

Except for one thing.

The applications peeked out from one of the folders in the pile. He reached forward, finger tips barely grazing the visible parts of the paper. The deadline was approaching and he’d only spared minimal thought to them, very little weighing of options, and only a portion or two of each was filled out. 

Eli hadn’t mentioned applications over breakfast, though he’d glanced at the unfinished pile next to Adam’s books. Adam hadn’t even seen Eli’s applications, though he assumed they were already packaged up by this point. Eli was behind in some of his work, but not the applications. He’d remarked on this to Adam, saying that Carol probably was excelling in both areas as per her usual self.

Adam picked up the dusty black folder and opened it, scanning the first application. He pulled them out and pushed his books further up the table. The applications were lined up in a row of four and a small pile of blank paper was placed in front of him. He wrote the name of each university on a piece of paper along with the words “Pros” and “Cons”. 

His advisor had said to apply, then see what came back, and while waiting, to pro and con. But the sudden desire to weigh them coiled itself inside of his muscles, clinging hard. 

He started with Cambridge, filling out both columns. Next was Harvard, then the University of Tokyo, and finally the Danish university he was currently at. Good programs, rather good employment rate, comfortable student body, thorough advisors. 

To the side of all that, he wrote ‘Carol’ and ‘Eli’. 

The pen in his hand tapped against the paper three times, gaze flicking over the lists. He knew, from off-hand comments, that the university here had been a choice for both Eli and Carol. The ranking of it in their choices, that he didn’t know. 

Adam liked knowing that both of them were here, that eventually someone would have a conversation with him, short or long. That eventually a text would show up on his phone, that someone would be hovering in the doorway of his room. 

His tongue traced along the back of his lower teeth, feeling the line between each tooth. He leaned forward and scribbled ‘Lucas’ besides the two other names.  
His phone was still completely void of any communication from Lucas. The heaviness that accompanied that thought was faded, present but he could approach the emotion. 

The presence of Carol and Eli wasn’t a guarantee, but the chance was greater than any of the other choices. Lucas, with quiet smiles and mellow words, was a guarantee. The programs at the other universities might be better but they were unknown spaces, rooms with blank walls, and filled with people whose emotions needed entirely new flow charts and markers. 

The fingers of his left hand bunched up, tips pressing into his palm tightly. 

The table echoed the sudden vibration of his phone and he checked the message. There was a drop inside of him as he found a text from Eli saying that he’d forgotten about a meeting with his advisor, plus the due date of an assignment had been moved up, so he’d be home late. 

Adam would be on his own for most of the day and evening. 

He balanced the phone in his palm, gaze drifting back to the list in front of him. His focus rested on the word ‘Lucas’. Everything inside of him pulled with decision and he packed up all his supplies. 

The backpack weighed heavily on his back. 

 

The town was quiet, not void or empty, just a stream of mellow sound. The sounds of life within boundaries. People were home, back in their own spaces and following the routines they did every week. The smells of dinner wafted to him from the homes as he passed. 

Lucas would be off and at home. Fanny would probably be watching him cook in the kitchen, proving she could indeed focus for a length of time.

He came to a pause in front of the walk-way to the front door. The glow of lights from inside fell upon the grass below the windows. He didn’t see anyone shuffling around inside. Adam took the same counted fifteen steps up to the door and knocked. 

He waited quietly for a minute. 

Then another. 

But there wasn’t a sound from inside. He knocked again, and this time he heard the bark of a dog. The barking got closer until it was on the other side of the door. He flexed his fingers, wondering why Fanny was home alone with the lights on, more than one light. Only the lamp in the living room would be turned on for her. 

Adam wetted his lips, “Fanny.”

The barking slid from deep throated to something higher pitched, ending in whines. There was the added sounds of claws against the front door, trying to pry it open. 

He opened his phone and sent Lucas a text, asking if he was home. He waited two minutes then called him, it rang once then went to voicemail and Adam couldn’t find his voice right away. 

“Hi,” he said, and paused again. “I don’t think you’re home. You don’t sleep at this time. I hear Fanny though. You left a lot of lights on for her.” He swallowed. “I wanted to see if you were home. Okay, bye.”

Adam ended the call and stood there in the doorway, the sky completely dark except for a soft high of purple. He stared at his phone for a moment, then squeezed it. Fanny had quieted down. He hovered there, everything inside of him feeling bent at strange angles, and it felt as if he’d never stood here before. 

He counted the steps away from the door, unchecked, absent. Back onto the sidewalk, where the night suddenly was empty. Any sense of belonging was scattered and he wanted to be back at the observatory, back in his small room that shared a wall with Eli’s. 

The bus stop was deserted. No sign of anyone. They were all at home with the lights on. His phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket, almost dropped it. The text was from Eli, wondering where he was. 

_Out_ he texted back. Eli replied and said he’d finished things earlier than expected. Carol was coming over for a movie, but they could hold off until Adam returned. 

He could see them, sitting on the couch, the spot on the left open for him. A twisting, wringing maybe even, started inside of his chest. 

_Okay_ was the only word out of the six he’d chosen that made it into the reply. 

 

The movie was an old, terrible sci-fi that Carol had chosen. Adam continuously commented that none of it was plausible and Carol answered every single one with, “Yup, I know”. Eli was dead silent, though from the dry expression across his face, he was less than impressed.

When it was finished, he said, “I’m trying to remember why we still let you pick movies.”

“That is something I can’t answer. It’s both your faults,” she said, legs stretched out. Her seat was always in the middle. 

“You think I’d have learned when you picked [i]The Creature From the Black Lagoon[/i] for us.” Eli pushed off from the couch, moving to the DVD player. 

“Hey, that’s a great movie,” she said.

“It makes no sense,” Adam said. 

“The Lagoon makes perfect sense,” she crossed her arms.

“No, the one we just watched.”

“Oh,” Carol laughed, “Of course, it doesn’t. It’s not supposed. That’s the point.”

“… But why?”

“But that makes it fun.”

“Not making sense is fun?”

Carol turned to Adam and put a hand on his arm. “Okay, Adam, you and I are about to turn this into a debate of the philosophical kind. I beg of you, please no.”

He frowned. “Oh, alright.”

Her gaze flicked over his face. “Don’t take that too seriously. I’m kidding. If you want to debate it, we can.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. 

Eli stood with the DVD case in his hand, looking between them. Adam caught his gaze for a second and Eli swallowed.

“So, look,” he said, and Carol glanced at him.

“Look what?” she asked.

“Adam and I, we uh,” Eli’s fingers rubbed over the smooth plastic of the case, “We were wondering something.”

She tilted her head when there was a long pause. “What are you wondering? Spit it out.”

Adam shifted, “Why are-”

“We thought, if you were open to it, that we could go on that overnight weekend research trip,” Eli said, and Adam looked at him, confused by the sudden swerve. “You know, the one for extra credit. Students sign up in groups. Adam’s survived camping before, so it might be nice to have another trip. Plus extra credit.”

Carol looked between them. 

“But that’s-” Adam started.

“-Really last minute, we’re sorry.” Eli offered a shrug. “We don’t have to.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” Carol said. “Might be nice. We’ve been swamped in projects. Plus, I think technically we’re behind in testing the lenses and systems.”

Adam was silent.

“Then we can plan for an weekend field trip.” Eli set the DVD next to Carol. “We’ll have to get some food to take with us from town.”

“Adam and I can do that,” she said, turning to Adam. “Would you mind?”

“It’s fine,” he said, feeling as if he’d slipped from the rails. 

“Alright, that sounds good.” Eli grinned. “We’ll plan for that then.”

Adam watched as Carol got up and he followed to the door where everyone said their goodbyes. Carol told him to be ready to make a list tomorrow of things they needed. Once she was gone, Eli turned to him. 

“I blew it, I know,” he said, voice tight. “I panicked. I just, I don’t want to put her on the spot. Maybe we can ask her while we’re camping.”

“When did we decide on camping,” Adam asked. It was if a piece of the ground had caved in. “I don’t remember.”

“I was thinking about it. I was going to bring it up to you both, but uh, well.” Eli pressed his lips together. “I messed up.”

“But it’ll still be us, just us. Do talks need to happen outside?” 

“… No,” Eli said, “No. I’m sorry. I messed up. I know.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything?”

“Nope, I just made things more complicated,” he said, and added with a mutter, “Once again.”

Adam shrugged. “Okay, I’m going to go to bed.”

He padded off as Eli said “Night”. Once his teeth were clean and he shut the door of his room, he picked up his phone. There were no new messages. 

Lucas hadn’t talked to him in a few days now. 

That haze, the one of where everything that was pulled tight suddenly just split, hovered nearby. He climbed into bed. 

He’d try again tomorrow. 

 

Plans were set for Friday. They’d leave Friday late afternoon and then come back on Sunday. The study clearance was given to them and Carol suggested that her and Adam pick up the supplies on Tuesday. When Tuesday rolled around it had been a day full day since Adam had stopped by Lucas’s home. His phone had remained quiet and the gaping hole inside, filled with oily, squirming anxiety increased. 

They took a bus into town, a list of items needed tucked safely in Carol’s bag. They wanted everything to be easy to carry. Taking it all on the bus back should be a good test to see if they’d managed to achieve their goal. 

At the grocer, Carol split the list in half. Adam glanced over the section she gave to him and wandered off down the aisles with a basket in hand. He lined up the items in the basket, settling the heaviest items as equally as possible on opposite sides. The last item, a pack of granola, was laid on top. 

Adam walked down the aisle, turning the corner to begin his search for Carol. He froze immediately. Lucas had turned from the opposite corner and they both stood there, watching one another. Lucas’s posture shifted to something that made Adam feel cold. 

He couldn’t find his voice, grip tightening on the small basket he was holding. Lucas seemed to be suffering a similar problem. 

“I-I called you,” Adam blurted out. “I don’t know if you saw.”

Lucas smiled, but it wasn’t a shape that Adam knew. “I’ve been very busy.”

“Oh.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “Okay.” 

“I’m actu-“

“I started my applications,” Adam said, wanting to tell him about his name circled on the piece of paper. Lucas frowned, something tinging the corners of his expression, something that made Adam’s heart stretch inside of his chest. “A-and we still need to go star-gazing. I know where. It’s a-a nice place.”

The silence wasn’t half as sharp as the sigh Lucas gave after it.

“Adam.” And the apologetic posture that Lucas took on put all his weight uneven. “I’m going to be busy for a while. I’m sorry.”

“Wh….” Adam wetted his lips, phantom tremors running up his arms. “Busy with what?”

“There’s a lot of things I need to take care,” Lucas said. “That’s all.”

“Not even phone calls?” Carol had said phone calls weren’t all that hard to make. Eli got annoyed when his little sister couldn’t make time for a ten minute phone conversation. 

Lucas shifted the basket on his arm, lips twitching as if trying to discover what words to use, and Adam wondered if those words would taste bad in his mouth. But as Lucas began to open his mouth, he was cut off by Carol appearing from another aisle. 

“Yo, I almost got mowed down by this older lady. Not even the grim reaper’s gonna catch her,” she said, then paused, seeing Lucas. “Oh, hello.”

Lucas glanced at Carol then back to Adam. “I’m very sorry, but I have to go.” He turned away, then stopped, looking back at Adam. “Take care of yourself, yes?”

“Okay,” Adam said, but he didn’t feel the word. 

They watched Lucas disappear into another aisle of the grocer. Adam could feel Carol peering at him, but he was trying to figure out what he was missing. There was a completely blank area inside of him, or maybe it had been ripped off the chart. Something was wrong, he had missed a piece of info, or a look, or a conversation. 

“Is that the guy?” she asked.

But Adam didn’t want to put anymore words together. He was chaotic energy, ready to turn to dust, ready to explode over everything. He wanted to sit down and not get up. He wanted to shove everything over. If he had no order, then he didn’t want order to surround him. What right did the world have when he didn’t feel the same?

“Adam,” she said, “are you okay?”

“F-fine,” he snapped. He didn’t feel this either.

“Alright.” But her voice was held behind a door. “Let’s pay for our stuff and catch the bus. We don’t want to miss it.”

He didn’t want anything. 

They paid for the items and carried the three bags out of the store. He boarded up everything inside, and remained silent. Carol didn’t say another word, but sometimes she’d look at him and it was a smooth look, something with soft edges. 

When the bus had arrived at the stop for the observatory, he stepped off without Carol. Adam stalked into his building, up the stairs, and took three tries to unlock the front door. The door slammed behind him and as he was going into his room, doing the same thing, he heard Eli, “Why the fuck are you slamming doors?”

He didn’t answer and just stood in the middle of his room. Too much inside, too much to fit inside of his skin. 

There was a knock. 

“Adam? Hey, what’s going on?”

His jaw clenched. 

“Adam. What the fuck.” There was a long pause. “Fine. Don’t answer me.” And the retreat of footsteps could be heard. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. There was a text from Carol asking if he was okay and that she had all the groceries at her apartment. He tightened his grip until the edges dug into his palm and fingers. 

So simple. 

With a sharp, forceful movement he threw the phone across the room, hearing it clatter somewhere near his desk. Had he done something wrong? He sat on his bed, going through all their last interactions, but he didn’t remember any short pauses, or confused expressions, or drawn out sighs. 

The bed moved beneath his weight as he flopped onto his side, toeing off his shoes. 

He would skip dinner. 

He would be late. 

 

In the morning, he wasn’t sure how to sort himself. Everything felt rifled through, strewn about, and yet all bunched together and balanced on the edge. Eli didn’t ask any question over breakfast and at lunch, Carol didn’t either. 

He had no words to give them. 

At points, he thought about calling Lucas, or sending a text, but his mind would supply how Lucas stood, the strange expression hidden in the corners of his face. And then Adam would feel unwound all over again. Wednesday passed, and so did Thursday. 

On Friday, edges of him felt raw, but dishes clattering, and the scent of cleaning supplies, and how small hallways were didn’t seem as bad. After all his work was done for the day, he met Eli in the apartment and they got their bags together. 

“Okay, do I have everything,” Eli asked, looking down at the backpack and duffle bag. 

“All the things on the list are crossed off,” Adam said. 

“I know, but we might not have written something down.”

“Why would we do that?” Adam dragged his backpack up. 

“… Alright, I got it, I sound paranoid.” Eli took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Carol was waiting for them in the parking lot. There were to buses there to take students on the field research trip. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

“Yup, let’s do this,” Eli said.

All the bags were stored on the vans and the students filed into them. They let Adam slide into the row first so he could be close to the window. Carol sat in the middle and Eli sat on the end. Rides were everyone’s least favorite part, though Carol didn’t mind too much. Eli experienced motion sickness and Adam didn’t like being confined in a small area with so many other people sharing the air. He’d gotten better over time about it though. 

“I hope we don’t freeze our asses off,” Eli said once they’d gotten on the road. “I packed as much warm stuff as I could.”

“We should be fine,” Carol said.

“You’re a mini-heater. I don’t trust your opinions.” Eli glanced at Adam. “And you know what, you’re from a cold place originally so your opinion doesn’t matter either.”

Adam frowned, but didn’t reply. He kept his hands firmly on his thighs. The seatbelt and seats were worn fabric, fabric with stains he thought he kept smelling. He glanced at Eli when Eli wouldn’t stop looking at him. 

“Lots of places are cold,” Adam said, “Some are colder than others.”

“Some get snow,” Carol added, “And some don’t get snow.”

“So, is Denmark colder than New York?” Eli asked.

“But Denmark is a country?” Adam shifted his back against the seat. Musty, everything smelled musty.

“Yes, amazing how that works.” Eli snorted. 

“New York is a city,” Adam continued.

“And,” Carol said, “asking that is comparing things that are very different. I’m sure parts of Denmark get colder than New York.”

“They both get snow,” Adam said.

“Okay, I realized how stupid of a question that was.” Eli rubbed his jaw. “You probably didn’t even think about comparing weather.”

“Not all of us are obsessed,” Carol said.

“You two are less likely to lose limbs to frost bite.”

Adam was looking at them now, full focus. “Actually, it’s more than likely the same chance.”

“No, uh uh. I am a delicate thing when it comes to cold,” Eli said.

“Why the hell did you come here then?” Carol raised an eyebrow.

“Because I believe in the good of education.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snorted. 

Adam found that his lips had relaxed and that he was smiling a bit. 

“Okay, no more weather. Let’s play I-spy,” Carol said. 

There were three rounds, and Eli mentioned at the beginning of each one that he hated the game. Adam joined in but as usual, remained confused as to why it was such a fun game. There wasn’t much logic to it and the random factor was too much. 

But, it was tradition, somehow. 

It was late afternoon when they arrived. Everyone was shuffled off the buses, things were unloaded, and each set of students was given the area they would be camping in, or if they wanted to stray further, the boundaries. 

Eli, Carol, and Adam decided to stray. No one was keen on being too close to the other students, so they shouldered their stuff and hiked about ten minutes. The area wasn’t as comfortable, the ground being a little rocky, but it was quiet and just themselves. 

They hassled over setting up the tent, with Eli being less of help than Carol or Adam. Eventually Carol made him sit on the sidelines and watch. Once it was set up, they arranged their sections of the tent, and Eli began to build the fire.

“Not useless there,” Carol said.

Eli rolled his eyes. “I am not, thank you. I have grade-a fire building experience and safety. I can handle this.”

Adam was a few feet away, staring off into the surrounding area. It was quiet, very quiet. There was the occasional sound of fellow students far away, but nothing beyond that. The trees, the silence reminded him of nights at Lucas’s. A light feeling, weakness, set in and he jerked an arm, turning to come back to the camp fire.

Eli had it burning and they set up the canned stew to warm up. Eli was tucked closer to the fire, hands held out to soak up the warmth. Adam was bundled up in his jacket, absently watching Carol stir the stew. 

“Everyone’s quiet,” she said. 

Eli groaned. “I’m hungry. I forgot to eat before we left.”

Adam had nothing to add. 

Dinner was had in silence, everyone lost within their own minds. Adam thought about his applications, wondering if he should consider weather. But his lists felt solid to him, something he could touch, something that felt comfortable inside of him. He thought about Carol’s off-smile and Eli’s avoidance of talking to her. He thought about Lucas being busy. 

His fingers clenched around his spoon. 

With dinner out of the way, they made sure they were warm enough, put the fire out, and got their equipment. 

“I think this is the first time we’ll be testing the new telescope lens along with the night sky software,” Carol said.

“The lens students are hoping for good feedback,” Eli said. 

“I hope we have good feedback for them,” she said. “Having to wait on other people how annoying.”

The sky was clear, for once the weather prediction being correct. Adam recorded the information down, while Eli and Carol tested the telescope and the navigation. After a bit, Carol and Adam switched places, only for Eli to switch with Carol because he was getting a headache. 

Eventually, the science talk died off and they began to discuss other things. The bad timing of advisors. How awful group work was, who thought it was a good idea in the first place. Bizarre assignments. Too many assignments in a week. Procrastination. 

The discussion tapered off into a mellow silence, something that fit in the curves of their limbs. They were all sitting on the ground now. Eli with his legs sprawled. Carol with a knee bent. Adam with his legs tucked up. 

“You know,” Eli said. “It might be cold as hell here, but I do like how serene and quiet it is.”

“Not like that back home?” Carol asked.

“No, not in a big city.”

“New York was very loud,” Adam said. 

“Not even just loud, pulsing in a way that got under your skin,” Eli said. “It’s like getting the wrong kind of drunk in a club and everything is just too much.”

“I came from a small town,” Carol said. “We had the wrong kind of quiet. The dead sort of quiet.”

“Someone might get murdered quiet?” Eli asked. 

“No, stale. A stale quiet,” she said. 

Adam liked that. He felt the shifts, the dips and stretches of space in the world around him, between things that could be regarded the same. But there were differences. The quiet of Lucas’s home compared to the silence of his phone when waiting. 

A few minutes passed and nothing in the sky changed, not for them. Carol turned to face Eli and Adam. 

“Okay, look,” she said, “I believe that to get honesty, you need to give honesty. Or at least make a promise of it.”

Eli frowned and Adam weighed the words to himself. 

“Everyone has secrets, yeah, alright, but sometimes you just need to wait on a secret,” she said. “And I know both of you have been worried. Eli can’t even ask me and you,” she motioned to Adam, “keep asking.”

Adam began, “Is that ba-“

“No, it’s not bad,” she said. “I just, I wasn’t ready. I am ready now though. Can I talk to you two?”

“Of course,” Eli said.

“Why are you asking,” Adam said. That’s what people did. They talked. “I didn’t-“

“I know,” Carol said, and then paused. She closed her eyes, a deep breath spilling from her nose and mouth. “I’m sick.”

“What is it?” Eli asked.

“How did you get sick?” Images of his father, tired and with a smile that drooped, filled Adam’s mind.

“Who knows how,” she said. “It just happens. I was feeling really awful and I went through a bunch of tests, but they finally found a tumor. It seems to be the cause of most everything, so it’s the suspect.”

“Oh god.” Eli was sitting up straight. “Is it cancerous?”

Adam froze up. Long, drawn out exhaustion and lots of time in bed. Cancerous. 

“We don’t know yet, really. That’s what the latest tests are,” she said. “I’m uh, waiting on the results. Benign or malignant, I’ll know by next week.”

Eli and Adam were dead silent. 

“No,” Adam said. “No.”

Carol looked at him. “Please don’t freak out. I’ll tell you as soon as I know.”

“No,” he repeated. 

She scooted closer to him, sliding an arm around his. “No more talking about it, okay? It might have completely killed the mood, but I want to hear you two talk, anything really.”

Adam’s grip on her arm was crushing. 

Eli was looking down at the ground. “Uh, well, funny enough I brought the trip up because yeah, extra credit,” he said, “But we wanted to talk to you about what was wrong.”

“I suspected,” she said.

“Thanks for telling us.” Eli also scooted closer, squeezing her shoulder. 

“If…” Adam’s mouth felt raw, dry. “If you ever need a walk.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I’ll come find you.”

They fell back into silence, only this time it was full of words that hadn’t made it past the lips, emotions tightened deep within, wells that needed sorting and wading. It was suffocating, water lapping at their jaws, threatening to cover them. 

Eli cleared his throat. “Alright, I might as well tell you two, since it’s tell-all-the-things night.” He skimmed his fingers over his jacket sleeve. “I already know where I’m going to grad school.”

“Oh?” Carol leaned forward.

“I got accepted into a school in Sweden,” he said. “It’s not the most well-known school and it doesn’t have the perfect program, but it’s everything I want, honestly. So when I’m done here, I’ll head up there.”

“Wow, already,” Carol said.

Adam found that his throat felt dry, itching. Eli wasn’t going to be a name circled anymore. He was leaving. 

“I mean, it’s everything but you two,” Eli said. “I kind of hesitated.”

“It’s so far away,” Adam said, “We won’t have breakfast anymore, o-or trade doing dishes.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Eli said. “I’m going to miss all that.” 

Adam wanted to stand up and walk away, keep walking and just scrape out all the pulsing, the wiggling emotions inside. He wanted to throw them up, bury them in the ground. 

“But if,” Eli said, “If you two end up going here, then we can see each other on the weekends or something? I’m not too far north in Sweden.”

“Promise?” Carol said.

“Yeah, I promise.” Eli glanced at Adam. “Promise?”

He nodded, motion shaky and forced. 

“Well,” Carol said, “This turned rather serious.” She glanced at Adam, as did Eli. “You alright?”

Adam tried to find where right was, but balance was pulled to one side. There was something sharp, yet queasy inside. Scraping at his seams but also chilling them. He stood up, drawing away from Carol and Eli. 

“I-I just.” He wanted something, needed words to give them. “Sleep.” 

He left them out there, heading back into the tent. He dressed warmly for the sleeping bag, with blankets piled on top. He didn’t want to sleep, but he wanted a closed space, something tight and dark. A place that muffled his head. 

Adam stayed there, until Carol and Eli joined him in the tent. Someone paused near him, but after a moment they moved on. There was rustling as they got themselves ready and then slipped into their own beds. 

Eventually, Carol’s soft snoring filled the tent. He listened to it, knew where the stutters were, the intake, how long the exhale was. He counted. She wasn’t exhausted in a bed, dimmed like over worn fabric. 

He turned onto his other side, facing where Eli and Carol were. 

He counted again.

Until he couldn’t even remember the numbers.


	11. A Life Built By Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the consistency of this story and the quality have probably gone down hill. I'm determined to finish it, and I'm trying to push through to the end. I might come back after I finish and re-write everything. But I still apologize, I don't like giving the few readers who still track this less than perfection. Forgive me.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. I do read each comment, I'm just too shy and ashamed to reply to them.

When Adam wakes up, in his mind, Carol and Eli are already gone. There are huge gaps left behind, something person shaped that he used to understand, to know. Shapes filled once with voices, and colors, and words. He is alone in a room facing a newly emptied room in a small apartment in a busy city. 

But Eli and Carol are still asleep across from him. Carol is softly snoring, with some foreign thing trying to grow inside of her. Eli is silent, as will be his room when he is gone. 

Adam sits up, flexes his fingers. The sun has barely started to rise outside. He should still be asleep, but everything inside of him is pushing and turning, and if he stays in his sleeping bag he will drown. 

He unzips his sleeping bag and slides over. He pulls his clothes on, making sure his coat is tight. The morning chill is biting at his fingers, trying to sink into the very bones. Neither Carol or Eli wake as he shuffles around them, and leaves the tent. 

It’s quiet outside, with only birds and a few fellow students moving around. Adam hovers outside the tent, breath fogging around him. There’s no pull in any particular direction and he begins to wander. No one else greets him, each one caught up in their own lives. 

Adam glances at his phone. Eli had bought them both portable chargers, and Adam has found it useful. There are no messages on his phone, and his heart jerks within his chest. He feels sick. Lucas hasn’t talked to him in a week, maybe even more. 

He knows he’s done something wrong. 

He’s spent hours trying to remember and map all their interactions. He cannot remember any severe displays of displeasure. Lucas is patient, he is quiet, he is gentle. He smiles a lot, in a subtle, flat sort of way. But there’s a warmth behind it, something that always draws Adam in and makes him feel reassured. 

Adam doesn’t know what happened. 

And now Carol is sick and Eli is leaving. 

There’s a hill and he settles down on it, overlooking the grassy landscape. Drowsiness is tucked beneath his eyes, but he doesn’t want to go back. He stretches his legs out. His applications are waiting for him when he returns. Them and no Lucas and limited time with Eli. Maybe even Carol. 

He thinks of a small apartment back in New York, where he and his father lived, and then just him. How silence echoes among still rooms. That place has no room for him now. It’s a breathing space for someone else. New York holds nothing for him.

A chill settles into his cheeks and there’s a cavern inside of him. He cannot see the bottom. Heaviness pulls at the corners of his eyes and the chill on his cheeks is broken by a tear, maybe two. Adam doesn’t want to go back to the institute, he doesn’t want to return to the tent, he doesn’t know what he wants to do. He thinks about wrapping himself in a blanket and waiting until he feels smothered. 

“Adam, what are you doing out here?” It’s Carol’s voice. 

He refuses to turn around.

She leans over in his peripheral. “Eli’s still- Adam, are you, wait, what’s wrong?” 

He doesn’t answer her. She hovers, fingers rubbing against one another and she sits.

“I shouldn’t have said anything yesterday, fuck, look, I’m sorry,” she says. There’s a tension in her words, something he doesn’t recognize. “Shit, Adam, I thought i-“

“I don’t know,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Wrong with what?”

He wipes the tears off with his sleeve. “Anything, everything. I don’t know.”

“Guys, it’s the ass crack of dawn, wh-“ Eli stops mid-sentence. “What’s going on? Adam, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, pulling up his knees and burying his face on them. His chest clenches and breathing is like trying to pull air in through a small straw. It’s not enough, his muscles feel detached. 

He’s not okay.

Eli sits down near Carol and they exchange quick glances.

Carol hesitantly places a hand on Adam’s back. “You’re alright, I promise. I’m here and Eli’s here.”

Quivering takes over his shoulders, his back, and arms. He cannot find warmth in his coat. Everything has been dropped onto the floor and it’s too much to pick up. He can’t get all the pieces. It’s ruined, all of it is ruined. 

Eli and Carol are talking softly, she is talking about her project. But her hand is still resting on his back and there is heat present. Eli’s responses are short, but he’s agreeing with whatever she is saying. Adam closes his eyes and he feels like he IS back in their apartment, pretending to sleep on the couch while Eli and Carol talk. 

Softness settles into his body, muscles are pulling lax and he feels air swallowing into his throat and lungs. Adam slowly lets up his grip on his knees and pulls back from them. 

His face is stained, sticky. Eli and Carol aren’t looking at him, they are still talking. 

He sits up straighter, wiping his face. 

A chill settles on his face where there was moisture and his cheek muscles feel stiff. Adam blinks a few times, nose like cotton and a covering of tiredness resting over his frame. He wants to go home now, back to the apartment. 

Because that is home. 

“I want to go home,” Adam says.

“You want to what? Wait-”

“Adam, what’s wrong?” Carol asks.

“I want to go home,” Adam repeats.

Carol frowns, mouth pausing mid-sound, trying to re-form a response. “Adam, we really are in the middle of nowhere, it’d be hard just to le-“

“Okay,” Eli says. His voice is firm, stretched out like a bridge, secure. “Okay. We’ll go home.”

Carol sighs, “Alright, we’ll go home.”

Eli glances at her. “You can stay here if your project needs it.”

“Not important,” she says. 

They all get up. Adam sways on his feet, he feels heavy. He is tired. They walk back to the tent and Eli disappears. Carol and Adam have gotten the bedding wrapped back up, though most of the work is Carol’s. Adam’s hands are shaking.

Eli returns, “Alright, told them Carol wasn’t feeling well and we needed to go back. Let’s get stuff packed up best we can, so they don’t have too much to do.”

Adam sits by and lets them finish, his fingers are dug into his jacket. It’s too open, there’s no filter, he could fall off the Earth. 

Carol feigns being as light-headed as possible on the ride back to the institute, and the field trip director seems to buy it. Adam hasn’t said anything else, he has his face buried in his elbows, slouched over by the window. Eli’s trying to make small talk with the driver. 

At some point, Adam drifts off and his dreams are of empty rooms, and bare beds. Of him standing alone on a street, receding warmth on his hand where it was touched for the last time. Calendars with no days circled. A phone that hasn’t buzzed in a week. 

“Do you love or do you need,” was said to him once, by a voice that sounded as twisted and raw as his own. 

“Am I loved or am I only needed?”

He wakes with a twisting inside of his stomach and he’s the one who feels light headed. His skin feels moist and chilled beneath his jacket. He wants comfort from someone buried six-feet under and thousands of miles away. He wants to be in a house that smells vaguely of forest, dog, and cinnamon. 

The institute looms in front of the van. 

The van rolls to a stop and Adam clambers out, heading straight for the apartments. Eli and Carol are stumbling out after him. 

“Wait!” Carol says, trying to grab her bags. 

Eli leaves his bags, walking after Adam. “Adam, wai-”

“No,” Adam snaps over his shoulder, “I don’t need anything, I don’t need help.” He pushes the door open to the apartments and begins to jog to the stairs. Eli runs after him, barely catching the door to the apartments. 

They’re racing through the hallways, and Eli accidentally clips someone else’s shoulder, throwing an apology back at them. Adam fumbles with his keys and unlocks the door, stumbling inside. Eli is not far behind and follows him in.

“Adam, stop, hold on,” he says. “Don’t slam that bedroom door.”

He barely catches the door before it slams.

“Leave me alone,” Adam says, wanting to curl up somewhere confined. 

“I do,” Eli says, “whenever you ask, but Adam, no, not this time. I ne-no, I want you to talk to me. I want to apologize.”

The pressure on the door lightens up, and Adam pauses, his lungs are shaking inside of him, and his breath feels acidic. 

“Apologize?”

“Yes, yeah. I want to apologize.”

Adam allows Eli to push the door open, he watches his friend. Eli doesn’t step over the threshold of the door. He swallows.

“You know, Carol and I always try and do what we think is best,” he says. “We try and not do things that make life harder for you.”

“I don’t need help,” Adam says again, “I can do everything. I can.”

“You can,” Eli confirms. “But sometimes, everyone needs help, not just you. You’re not different us, Adam, I mean, you are. Your life is different, it has different problems, but that… shit.” Eli rubs a hand over his face. “I’m just fucking up again.”

He takes a deep breath and Adam watches the way Eli’s shoulders sag a little bit, and his body feels as if some of the tension has left in response.

“I can only speak for myself, but Adam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything and then just dumped it on you in one go. That wasn’t okay. That’s not okay with anyone and I messed up.”

Adam’s lips feels dry. “I can handle it. I can do it.”

“Yeah, you can, but that doesn’t make it right,” Eli says. “You’re a human being, Adam, not just… not just some puzzle that people learn how to work. I’m sorry, I fucked up and I know it. I won’t do that again. You can handle it, and I will tell you straight up.”

Adam’s feet shuffle on the floor, and he can’t find any more words. His voice is tired, and he doesn’t want to construct anymore communication. Eli leans into the room and takes hold of the door handle.

“I’ll be out here whenever you want to talk,” he says and then shuts the door after him.

Adam hovers, hears Carol’s voice outside with Eli’s. He slips his shoes off and climbs onto his bed. It smells only of him and somehow, that hallows out a space in his ribcage. He curls up under the covers, staying there until all the air with him is warmed and musty. 

His mind wanders, then slowly begins to quiet. He can’t hear Eli or Carol anymore. 

He sleeps to the gentle wheeze of his own breathing.

 

It’s mid-afternoon when he wakes up. Adam stays beneath his covers, hearing only the echo of the tv from in the next room. He pushes the covers back and sits up, mouth cotton dry and lips feeling the same. He slips out of bed and shuffles towards the door, opening it only a crack. 

Eli’s sitting on the couch, watching what appears to be a documentary. Carol isn’t anywhere in sight. Adam ventures out to the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water.  
He hovers behind the couch.

“Feeling better?” Eli asks, pausing the documentary.

“Yes,” Adam says.

“Good.” Eli turns to face him. “Carol is coming back over for supper. She decided to go back and shower and get some project work done.”

“That was me,” Adam murmurs.

“No,” Eli says, dropping his head to try and catch Adam’s gaze. “We both decided to come back with you. Plus, this thing is sort of our fault too.”

There’s a stiff nod as a response.

“You know I’m really sorry, right?” Eli says.

“Okay,” Adam says.

“Alright, good.”

He hovers, unsure. He has work that needs to be done. He has decisions that need to be made. But instead he sits beside Eli on the couch.

“This documentary is vague,” he says. “It doesn’t cite enough studies.”

“I know,” Eli says.

“Most of the time I can look up what they reference, but this one, it’s too hard. It takes a lot of searching to find what they’re referencing. It’s not very professional. The most you can go off of is the credits where they have to tell you what research they looked at. But even then it’s broad.”

“It was this or how Bigfoot is related to UFO sightings.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

Adam watches until the documentary is over. Eli herds them both into the kitchen and they get all the pots and cutting boards ready. It isn’t long until Carol knocks on the doors and joins them.

“Feeling better?” she asks Adam.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Tonight is a good night for gourmet mac n’ cheese,” she says.

Adam perks up at that. “I like mac ‘n cheese.”

She flashes him a grin. 

“I suggested gumbo,” Eli says, “but Carol vetoed that.”

“It’s all together,” Adam says. “It’s like mush.”

“Delicious mush.”

Adam’s nose wrinkles.

“You both need to live adventurously,” he tells them.

“All of us are at a research graduate institute in another country that isn’t our home,” Carol says. “I think we have that down.”

“I went camping,” Adam says.

Eli pauses. “Touché. You both got good points.”

Dinner was mainly Adam listening to Carol and Eli argue definitions of terminology. Adam’s phone was abandoned in his room, two of the three people who call or message him sitting in the same room. The third was still missing, and Adam wasn’t even sure when the last time he’d heard from Lucas had been. 

He sets his fork down, only a small portion of dinner left in the bowl. Carol and Eli glance at him, but only for a second and resume their conversation.

His mind is plagued by images of Lucas’s home, the comfort within it, how the bed felt more like his one back in New York. He imagines Lucas sitting alone at his table, with only Fanny as company. 

“Adam?” Carol is leaning over the table, trying to catch his eyes.

He looks up at his friends, both of them sitting quietly in their chairs and watching him. They always are watching, waiting. They are never far. 

“I haven’t heard from him in weeks,” Adam says. “No messages.”

Eli’s eyebrows furrow, working through the sudden jump, but Carol’s lips tighten. 

“Not one message? Have you called him?” she asks.

“Yes.” Adam pushes the bowl in front of him with one finger. “I even went to his house.”

“Wait,” Eli says, “He’s brushing you off? Did he say why?”

Adam shakes his head. “He just stopped talking to me.”

Eli and Carol exchange glances.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eli says.

Adam frowns. “I’m no-“

“I know,” Eli says. “Sorry.”

“That’s kind of rude,” Carol says. The softness that surrounds her is gone. “You just don’t do that sort of thing.”

“I think…” Adam swallows. “I think it’s my fault.”

“How the fuck do you think it’s your fault?” Eli asks.

He thinks of dark, soft hair and pained brown eyes. Standing in the street during winter. Confusion and rawness. 

“I probably did something,” he says, “Depending on him too much.”

“That’s the most ridicule-” Eli shoves away from the table and gets up. “No way.”

Carol is sitting very still. “Adam, you take care of yourself. I don’t think that’s the reason. Maybe he got cold feet.”

“Cold feet?” Adam tastes the words and decides they are an ugly combo.

“Yeah, like,” Carol licks her lips, gaze straying upward, “when someone gets nervous and decides they can’t do whatever they were about to. He might really like you but he got scared.”

“Scared? I’m scary?”

There’s a short laugh from Carol. “Everyone’s kind of scary in some way.”

Adam is looking at her, expression heavy and considering. 

“Okay,” Carol says and leans forward, “Think of it like this. You meet someone, you haven’t met them before. How do you feel?”

“Nervous,” he says. “But Lucas and I know each other.”

“Yeah, but you can still feel that way when you know someone, right?”

He thinks of the first few months of meeting Eli and Carol. He thinks of even of now, when he cannot summarize or flow chart their behaviors, cannot find the starting point of emotions analysis. That odd, light shake he feels within him. 

“I think I understand,” Adam says, and he means it. 

Lucas might feel that shake because of him. 

“But then it still could be something I did,” Adam says. 

“I mean, maybe,” Eli says, chiming in, “But there’s the chance you haven’t done a single thing.”

“But cold feet means a reaction,” Adam presses.

“Sort of.” A shifted smile is on Carol’s lips. “It doesn’t have to mean you actively did something. His nervousness might be a result of you. Just you, nothing you did.”

Adam’s furrowed expressions brings a laugh out of her.

“Sometimes, liking a person is just… well,” she glances off, “It’s scary. It’s big, and it’s heavy.”

He feels something adjust inside of him, straighten itself up. Sitting across from Lucas at the café table, feeling that strange feeling, like when he’s hungry or wants a glass of  
water, but not quite. 

“Okay,” he says, “I know what you’re talking about.”

They’re silent for a moment. 

Eli gets up to refill his glass of water and Carol stretches her legs. Adam is still sorting through the info. He feels as if he’s hanging between two points, clutching a rope stretched across them. 

“So what do I do?” he asks.

“Honestly,” Carol says, looking at him. “I’m not sure. If he’s not responding to you, then there’s nothing you can do.”

Eli is returning from the kitchen. “The most you can do is move on.”

“Let it be and move on,” Carol confirms. 

“It’s hard to stop thinking about it,” Adam admits. “It’s just there.”

“It’s definitely not easy. But sometimes closure just isn’t an option.” She crosses her arms, head leaning back against the couch. “It’s not exactly fair but, I guess that’s life.”  
Eli hums in agreement, standing behind the couch now. 

“But, just not think about it just like that?” There’s a tilt in his voice, he cannot see the behavior clearly. There’s no setting this on a dusty shelf and leaving it there.

Carol snorts. “Sounds simple, I know. But ‘just like that’ really isn’t how it sounds. It’s a process.” She rubs her bangs out of her eyes. “I had this girl I dated for like, uh, six years. We lived together and everything, I really liked her. Then, like some stupid tragic romance novel, she up and moved out. Did it while I wasn’t there. She didn’t leave a note, no nothing. I still have no idea why she just decided it was time to be done.”

She turns her head towards Adam. “I was angry for a long time. I kept replaying every day up to that one, but I never figured it out. It was really hard to just let go and move on. It took me a long time, but eventually it’s not something that clings to your conscious mind.”

Adam chews this info over. He tries to imagine living with someone, only to come home and be alone. His mind wanders to his father.

“Are you still angry?”

“Sometimes I still get a little angry, but it’s nothing like before,” she says. 

“You still have a lot of things you do,” Eli says. “Lucas wasn’t the only thing. A nice thing, I’m sure. But you’re still here for a purpose.”

Piles of paper, star charts, notes on galaxies. 

Something softens in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah. I am. I’m here for a purpose.” He shares a smile with them both and they return it. “I’ll try and let it be. No closure.”

“We got your back,” Carol says. 

She is laying back against the couch, head turned towards him, and arms still crossed. Eli is leaning over the middle seat from the back, glass of water in hand. Their faces are familiar, he has seen emotions pass over them, seen their features twist and mold. 

They are present, they always are.

He knows this.

“I hate to be a wet blanket,” Carol says, “but I’m feeling exhausted. I always feel like I’m tired now.”

“You can stay here if you want,” Eli says. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes,” Adam says. 

“Well, alright, I’ll stay over.”

Adam watches her get off the couch and follow Eli, their conversation becoming distant. He glances down at his hands. 

He is here for a purpose. 

 

 

Without a completion of the last field trip, Adam is behind on his planned schedule. He will need to complete one overnight field trip before semester end. But until another is scheduled that he can attend, he decides to catch up on technical work. 

There’s plenty of it.

It pulls heavy against his shoulder, crammed into his backpack. The library is relatively busy, with the end of semester looming in another month and a half, there’s too much to finish and very little time. Even with his strict schedule and his goals plotted out, Adam has a back pile.

Some of the work had been left to the wayside when he spent time with Lucas.

Adam shuts the door on that thought and finds an open table near a window. He sets his back pack down and slides into the chair. 

Once his computer is loaded and all his books lined up, just how he likes it, he begins to browse the night sky navigation. Not being able to test it in the field has set back the actual appraisal of what needs to be tweaked, but there were calculations he wanted to double-check before the field test, so he considers this an extra chance.

With his earplugs in, a white noise generator his background setting, he cannot hear the bustle of the library anymore. The whispering voices are dulled, but the occasional movement nearby him shifts his attention in quick flickers, making him lose his focus. 

Adam works at the modifications for an hour and a half, before he finally gives into his wandering attention. There’s a guy at a table near his, staring outside, academic work left abandoned on the table. A girl is sitting on the floor between the bookshelves, the book she’d been reading, discarded besides her as she stares at the ceiling.

Seems no one can focus today. 

He glances out the window. It’s bright and sunny, the light slanting into the library from the windows. The sleeve of Adam’s hoodie feels toasty from it. There are students everywhere outside, no one wants to be inside. This might be one of their last warm days before the onset of winter. 

His skin feels itchy, and his foot begins to tap against the floor. 

It’s lunch time, he’s not getting anything done, so he packs up his things and heads to the café. 

It’s busy and there’s no seating, but it doesn’t matter. He takes a sandwich and a water bottle and escapes outside, into the light. It’s warm enough to shed his jacket, and he does so. 

His favorite bench is nestled near a few trees and allows him to watch the students come and go. There are students leaving the campus without backpacks, some are lounging in the quad, and others just milling about without any direction. 

He recognizes some of them, he’s seen them in his classes, in the café, around his dorm, in the library. He’s seen them asleep at tables and studying desks, seen them gripping their faces in frustration, gulping down large cups of coffee.

He’s seen them staring at star charts, piled in theories, scribbling information on whites boards.

But he has also seem them outside at night, standing in the quad, on rooftops, on balconies, and in the grass fieldS staring up at the sky. Collectively sharing the very thing that has brought them here to this point.

He has shared this with them. 

His fingers tighten on his sandwich. 

Eli will be sharing this with new people, in a new building, with a new room, and a different ceiling. Carol will remain here. 

And where will he be?

He has adjusted once, adjusted in a place that is across the ocean from everything he has known. He has survived his innards trying to twist themselves up, his heart trying to crawl back up his heart. He has survived his hands shaking uncontrollably. 

The sandwich wrapper crumples under his hands as he balls it up. 

A group of students pass by him closely, no backpacks in sight. 

It’s a nice day, he considers.

He picks his back pack up and heads back towards the apartments. 

It would be a nice day for a walk. 

 

It’s been seven days since the failed field trip and Adam deciding that he will put Lucas from his mind. The navigation system is ready to be tested, and he’s left with more theory work and research. His plan of locking himself away in his room is disrupted by Eli. 

“Hey,” Eli says, hovering in his doorway.

Adam turns to face him, waiting.

“Are you going to study?” 

“Yes,” Adam says.

“Want to head to the library together? I’m not feeling the usual shut-myself-up-in-my-room thing,” Eli says.

Adam weighs the situations, one with him bent over his desk, door shut, and papers stacked all around him. The other in a public place, sharing a table with Eli, able to glance up and see his face drawn tight as he reads.

“Okay,” Adam agrees. “I’ve been working on paper research.”

“Not the navigation system?”

“It’s ready to be tested.” Adam begins gathering his books up. “Just need a chance.”

“You work in such a thorough way, it’s impressive.” Eli pushes off the door frame.

Adam pauses, glances at him. “Thank you.”

Eli disappears from his line of sight and he can hear things being moved around. Adam packs up his laptop and the articles he needs to draw from. He zips up his bag and goes to put his shoes on. They slide on their jackets, lock the door, and head down the hallway.

“You remember that paper I was working on?” Eli says.

“Yeah,” Adam replies. Eli had spent days, hours on it.

“I did it on the wrong subject.” There’s a tight laugh, and Adam isn’t sure if it’s humor or annoyance.

“Are you going to be in trouble?” Adam steps aside to let a student pass.

“Uh, not entirely, the professor said that if I can re-write it in two days, I’ll be given credit.” 

Adam frowns. “That’s….”

“Yeah, I know,” Eli says, “A fifteen page paper on a subject I didn’t even take notes on in two days with my other work piling up. I did it to myself though, I guess.”

He shuffles through appropriate responses. “I’m sorry,” is what he goes with.

There’s a tilted grin on Eli’s face. “Yeah, me too. Just need to push through it.”

As they’re entering the library, a girl is exiting through the same door and Eli steps aside to let her pass. She looks familiar and Adam watches as she passes by. He puts the face with an identity as Carol’s roommate.

“Hey,” Eli calls after her.

She pauses and looks over her shoulder, “Yeah?”

“Is Carol at the apartment? Or I mean, was she the last time you were there?”

The girl adjusts the backpack hanging off her shoulder. “Uuuuh, yeah, she was.”

Eli brightens. 

“But she had an appointment earlier and she was really tired out,” the roommate continues, “so she’s been sleeping all day. I think it took a lot out of her.”

“Oh,” Eli says, and Adam mirrors the frown on his face. “Alright, thanks. Tell her hi for us.”

“Sure thing,” the girl says and walks away.

“I was going to ask her if she wanted to join us,” Eli says as the door swings shut behind them. “But if she’s tired, then she needs to stay home.”

Adam sorts through the ruffled emotions inside of him and finds he has nothing to offer. 

Eli always picks a table away from the windows, tucked closer to the shelves of books and preferably near a corner or in one. Today’s ends up near a corner and they pick their respective sides, Adam to the left of Eli. 

An hour and a half into studying, Adam has all his research outlined for his paper. There are three points he needs to confirm but all in all, he is ready to start organizing the info and writing the paper. He’s ahead of the deadline, but he wants to stay that way, especially with him being behind in field testing.

When he glances up, Eli isn’t writing, he isn’t reading. He’s staring down at a closed book, arms crossed, face blank of any tells. Adam watches him a moment, trying to find a point to start at, to work his way through what the man might be thinking or feeling. 

Sometimes, it all feels as overwhelming as it did years ago. 

He tries to picture Eli in a place that is not here, that is not Denmark. Will it be as cold in the winter? Will there be trees? Will the night sky look the same?

“What’s Sweden like,” Adam asks. 

Eli looks up, blinking twice and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never been there before. It’ll be all new to me.”

“Have you researched it at all?” Adam thinks of his time reading about Denmark for months before he left. He’d been so consumed with looking through pictures and reading history that it hadn’t occurred to him to study the language.

“I haven’t,” Eli admits. “I knew almost nothing about Denmark before I came here. I guess I like the blind learning process, though it has a lot of downsides and probably seems disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful?”

“Well, it’s like…” Eli pauses, and Adam thinks he’s lining up his words like he does, “You’re visiting someone else’s home, their house, right? And you don’t even take the time to find out what they like and if they hate peanut butter or if you should hang up your jacket before saying hello. You don’t get to be rude in someone else’s home, not when they’ve allowed you to visit.”

“Like moving things you shouldn’t because someone put them there,” Adam says.

“Yeah.” Eli rubs his jaw. “I’m sure I’ve done really stupid things. But I also don’t want my experience influenced by anyone’s opinion outside of what is before me. I want my interaction and take-away to be completely crafted by the country and people themselves, on their terms. So, pros and cons, I guess.”

Adam makes a positive gesture, to show he’s heard what Eli said.

Eli’s gaze strays back to his books. “I suggested the library for studying, but I’ve done pretty much nothing. Sorry about that. I guess my mind just can’t focus right now.”

“It’s okay,” Adam says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“No point in battling myself over this,” Eli says and sits up, beginning to collect his things.

Adam thinks of Carol, alone in her room, sleeping the day away. “We could hang out with Carol.” 

Eli looks at him. “We could. How about we do that? Maybe it’ll cheer her up, or something.” He slides his books into his bag. “In fact, let’s go into the village and grab some dessert for everyone.”

“Okay.” Adam packs his stuff up and they leave the library. 

By the time they’ve put their books and research away, they’re able to catch a ride with other students into the village. Adam doesn’t really like the drive as the car feels cramped, but he’s in-between Eli and a window, so it’s not the worst ride he’s had. 

There’s no rain today, but everything seems muted and damp. The previous sunny day seems forever ago and Adam finds he isn’t excited about winter. It’ll pass, as every season does, but his love of snow isn’t very little. 

They’re given an hour in the village, for everyone to get what they need. Eli and Adam make their way to the bakery that people frequent. It’s small, in-between a market and a coffee shop that sees a lot of traffic from the students. It always looks warm and welcoming, no matter the season. 

A young woman is behind the counter, and she greets them in Danish. Eli stumbles through a greeting and before Adam can even consider offering to help, she switches to heavy English. 

Eli turns to Adam. “Okay, what do you want?”

Adam looks at the menu and then the display. He can read most of the names, but many are still a mystery to him in terms of content. His grasp of the language is still tentative, but his grasp of cultural nuances is even less so. But he recognizes the Dream Cake.

“I like the drømmekage,” he tells Eli. 

Eli pauses, and Adam is about to repeat the word, but the woman behind the counter smiles and repeats the word back to Adam. She moves to box up a piece of the cake. 

“I know that Carol likes the uh, the apple one,” Eli says, trying to find it in the case.

“The ᴂblekage,” Adam responds, more to himself. 

“Also?” The woman asks.

“Two pieces of that,” Eli says. 

She boxes two pieces of the cake up for them, and then puts all of the desserts in a bag. Eli pays for them and they say goodbye as they leave the bakery. Adam finds himself more excited about dessert now that he knows what it will be. 

“Alright, before we go and wait for the car,” Eli says, “I’m going to grab some coffee. I’ve been craving some and I’m just going to give in.” He hands Adam the bag. “Do you want to come with me or go wait for the car?”

“I’ll wait outside,” Adam says. 

Eli steps into the shop, a bell ringing as the door opens. Adam stays outside, hovering near the window. He notices that clouds are beginning to turn the sky gray. It will probably rain over the night. He wonders what Carol is doing, if she’s still asleep, or if Eli texted her to tell her they were coming over. 

People are passing him on the side walk, and he watches a young woman in a bright red jacket cross the street. 

She moves to avoid colliding into a man, and something inside of Adam tightens so fast there’s an ache in his muscles. 

Lucas is passing the woman in the jacket, giving her a smile as they step aside to let the other pass. He looks the same as the last time Adam saw him, and Adam isn’t sure why he thought Lucas would look different. 

He’s clutching the bakery bag, and for a moment, he almost steps forward, ready to follow after him. He wants to know, needs to know why. What did he do? Was it something he did? Does he need to apologize? But he realizes Lucas hasn’t seen him, he doesn’t know he’s here. 

Lucas looks fine. 

He looks alright.

There’s a prickling inside of Adam, unpleasant and uncomfortable. He’s torn between grinding his teeth together and hiding. 

He remains where he is. Let it go. 

He told himself he would let it go. 

His palms hurt from where his fingers are digging into them. 

Lucas continues down the street until he’s gone from view and Adam doesn’t relax, even then. The coffee shop door opens and Eli steps out, cradling a to-go cup. 

“Hey, ready to go back?” he asks.

Adam nods.

Eli peers at him a moment. “You okay?”

He shuts his eyes, thinks of the night he spent on his own in the field under the stars. “I’m okay,” he says, “I’m okay.”

Eli doesn’t say anything right away but finally concedes. “Want me to take the bag?”

“No,” Adam says. 

Eli lets it be. 

 

Carol is awake and her eyes are wide when she finds them at the door. 

“Hey,” Eli says, “We thought you might like company. We even brought a gift.” He glances at Adam, motioning to the bag.

Adam looks between them, then awkwardly holds up the bag.

“Two of my favorite boys and cake,” she says, “How can I say no.”

She steps aside and lets them in. 

“If you’re too tired, we can leave the cake,” Eli says, “It’s okay.”

“Nah, I need some company,” she takes the bag from Adam.

“Who are your other favorite boys?” Adam asks.

“No one else, you’re both it,” she grins, heading to the kitchen.

“That’s a low bar,” Eli says, slipping his shoes off, “Well, in my case. Adam’s an upstanding gent.”

Adam offers a confused look, shoes already off.

“I won’t disagree with that,” Carol says.

“Hey, wait, you’re supposed to tell me I’m an upstanding gent too, okay.” 

“Sorry, that conversations done and gone,” she yells, “My roommate wants to study in the main room, so we’ll have to watch something in my room. That okay?”

“No complaints from me,” Eli says.

“Okay,” Adam says. 

“Can you give me a hand, Adam?” Carol asks.

He moves into the kitchen and she motions for him to take the tray with the cakes and silverware on it. He picks it up, and waits for her to get the drinks situated on another tray. She pauses before picking it up.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks.

Adam feels jarred, as if his footing has slipped. He isn’t sure what she sees. He can see Lucas’s retreating back on the street from earlier, feels the sore spot on his hand.  
But he also sees Carol in front of him now, ready to pick up a tray, looking stretched thin and yet, something in her has risen. He can hear Eli shuffling around in the next room. 

He is here, they are here.

A smile cracks onto his lips. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Are you?”

Her face reflects his smile, “Yeah, I am. C’mon.”

He falls into step behind her.


End file.
